


Four Days of Fantasies

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heterosexual Sex, Masturbation, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-04
Updated: 2006-12-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron and Hermione are in a rut until Hermione comes up with a plan to spice things up and hopefully save their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1-- The Journal

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:  

Author's Notes:

No profit is being made off this story, and is for entertainment purposes only. 

The characters were created and are the property of JK Rowling.

 

This is my first fan fic EVER! And certainly the first smut filled thing I’ve written. I enjoyed it greatly. 

Updated: 04/30/09

* * *

 

 

**Four Days of Fantasies** **Chapter 1 – The Journal**  

Ron sat alone in the small atrium canteen in the Ministry of Magic. His tattered red leather journal lay open before him, and he scribbled incessantly, only pausing to reflect on what to write next. 

 

If someone had told him five years ago, that not only would he be writing his feelings down in a journal, but he would also find it cathartic, he’d think they were insane. Hell, he thought it was insane that he actually knew what the word _cathartic_ meant.

 

However, five years ago was when he and Hermione had helped Harry defeat The Dark Lord, and thus all was saved. _Almost_. Life was supposed to go back to normal, and in many ways it did. But for a short while, Ron was plagued with nightmares, massive headaches and depression. 

 

It was recommended by the Ministry appointed therapist (that the Trio was required to see after the final battle), that Ron write in a journal. It was recommended for all of them actually, but Ron had never seen Harry or Hermione so much as pick up one. 

 

He was pretty certain that Hermione had never written in a journal, since they had been living together for the last two years, and he had yet to see her do it. _Hermione_. Ron sighed to himself. The reason for the last twenty pages he had just written. 

 

Most people would think that the most stressful thing in Ron’s life would be his job, (he never corrected people when they made that assumption), however, his relationship was far more stressful than any job could be. 

 

True, being an Auror (and a famous one at that) had its stressful moments, but it was pretty simple now that Voldemort was gone. Look for the bad guys, find the bad guys, and arrest the bad guys. Nothing to it. The relationship, well that was just the most complicated thing Ron had ever done in his life. Sometimes he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it all.

 

He loved Hermione, which was simple enough. He loved her almost to the point of obsession, and it still sometimes surprised him that she belonged to him. That’s probably why he wasn’t all that surprised when things started to fizzle. Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

 

After four years together, with the last two cohabitating, Ron was certain that he should be ready to get down on one knee and make it official. But with every day that passed, he felt a little less certain that he would get that “YES!” he so desperately wanted to hear from her.

 

For the last six months, Hermione had been working nearly around the clock, and when she was home, she would either bring work with her or she was catching up on sleep. Always apologetic, Hermione seemed very sincere, but it still left Ron quite lonely. Sometimes, she’d throw a guilty shag his way and Ron, being utterly starved for anything she had to give, eagerly took it. He tried to put his all into those “mercy shags,” as he called them, hoping that she would crave him as much as she seemed to crave her work. Thus far, it hadn’t proved effective.

 

“Oi, let’s go.” 

 

Ron started, as Harry shouted to him, and gave his shoulder a shove. Quickly, he got to his feet, and carefully placed his journal in the inside pocket of his robes. Harry was already far down the corridor by the time Ron made it out of the atrium canteen, but his long legs made it easy for him to catch up.

 

“One day somebody’s going to come up and lop your head right off your shoulders, and you won’t know a thing ‘cause your nose will be buried in that book. What are you writing anyway? One of those rubbish novels, Ginny reads all the time?” Harry smiled teasingly.

 

“Actually mate, it’s a tell-all book about you. And you know I know it all, from your first ride on the Hogwarts Express to the first time you got your cherry plucked.” Ron pinched Harry’s cheek and chuckled at his best friend’s grimace. “Then again, that _was_ with my sister, so maybe I’ll leave that part out.” Ron finished with a disgusted expression. 

 

Harry tossed his head back and belted out a laugh. “That’s what you get for being cheeky.” They headed outside. “Thanks for waiting for me.” Harry stopped just outside the doors. “I need some advice on what to get Ginny for our second anniversary.” He looked at Ron expectantly. Ron however drew a blank.

 

“Er… how should I know?” he shrugged.

 

“She’s your sister. I would think you should have some idea.”

 

“She’s _your_ wife,” Ron said, with an incredulous laugh. 

 

Harry hung his head pathetically. “I know. I’m rubbish aren’t I? How long have I been in love with this woman, and I couldn’t tell you what she’d like for a gift.” 

 

At least he wasn’t the only one completely baffled by the opposite sex, Ron mused. 

 

“Maybe Hermione will know something. Can I come by your flat for a moment and ask her?” 

 

Ron shook his head, causing a surprised expression to arrive on Harry’s face. "She’s probably not home from work yet,” Ron mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed that he didn’t actually know if his girlfriend was at home or not.  

 

“Oh…but it’s…” Harry looked at his wristwatch, “…after eight.” He looked back at Ron, expectantly. 

 

“Well, she’s been working late, a lot. Listen, I’ll ask her about it tonight, and let you know tomorrow morning,” Ron said in a hurried fashion, wanting to end the conversation before he was spilling his guts about just how miserable he had been over these last months. 

 

After waiting for Harry to Apparate, Ron decided to go back inside the Ministry and pay Hermione a visit. Just because she didn’t seem to have time for him didn’t mean he couldn’t _force_ her to spend some time with him while they were both awake. Ron immediately chastised himself for that thought. 

 

_She’s busy; she has important work to do after all. And she has to give100 percent. You knew this when you feel in love with her so just accept it._     

 

Six floors down, Ron stepped off the lift and made his way to Hermione’s office. He could hear light-hearted banter coming from inside as he stepped up to the door unnoticed. Hermione was seated at her desk looking over several rolls of parchment while a man with sandy blond hair leaned over her shoulder reading along. 

 

Ron had never seen this man before. However, he had not been to Hermione’s office in over three months. He casually looked over this man’s features. He was not overly handsome, but he was not unattractive either. He was quite fit, _but not as fit as Auror training has made me,_ Ron thought, as he unconsciously flexed the muscles in his arms. This man was average height, and had rather average features as well. 

 

He was simply…average. Still, it didn’t stop Ron from running a self-conscious finger across his longer than average nose. The man leaned forward in what initially appeared to be just an attempt to get a closer look at the parchment, however, from Ron’s advantage, it was clearly an opportunity to smell Hermione’s hair. Ron gritted his teeth and knocked on the door. The two jolted slightly and looked up. The stranger colored at the intense look on Ron’s face. Hermione simply smiled as she made her way around her desk to him. 

 

“Ron, what are you doing here?” she asked, as she embraced him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Ron was seeing red by this point, and his gaze never left the man in Hermione’s office. Seeming to sense that this was not going to go well unless she diffused the situation, Hermione quickly took Ron by the hand and lead him to her desk.

 

“Ron, this is Marshall Yates, he’s my new assistant. Marshall, this is my boyfriend Ronald Weasley.” Marshall stuck out his hand, but Ron took a moment before he accepted the gesture. 

 

“Yes, I’ve heard all about you, even before I started working for your lovely girlfriend.” Marshall smiled wide, and Ron didn’t like it.

_You smelled her hair you twit! I’ll give you something to smell!_ Ron  clenched his fist at his sides. 

 

“Right… I’ll just leave you two alone.” Marshall made a quick exit, and only then did Ron realize that he hadn’t said one word to the man. 

 

Hermione rounded on him. “What’s your problem?”

 

“How long have you two been working together?” he asked, in a voice that was poorly masking the fury he was trying to hide.

 

“About a month, I’ve told you all about him.” Hermione glared at Ron indignantly. Apparently she knew where this was going. 

 

“Really? And when would that have been? I’ve scarcely laid eyes on you in a month…and now I see why.” 

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but before she could retort, Ron turned and stormed out of her office. 

 

Even though he was moving fast, he knew that if Hermione really wanted to come after him, she could have caught him. It was immature, and in his heart he knew Hermione was not cheating on him. He trusted her with his life, as well as with his heart, but it still didn’t make him any less jealous. 

 

This Marshall arse was getting so much of _his_ Hermione that it made Ron almost physically ill. Sometimes she would be in the office for twelve or fourteen hours. Whereas Ron, if he were lucky, could get an hour or two of her time before she fell off to sleep. He needed a drink.

      

****

 

Several hours later, Hermione Apparated home, not sure what she would find, but fully prepared to have a massive row. She knew Ron wanted her to come after him and assure him that nothing was going on with Marshall, but she simply did not have the time. 

 It was imperative that she finish her current project tonight. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was relying on her to get the new upgrades for the Communicators in on time. Although times were quite peaceful now, there were still dark wizards out there. Hermione wanted to make sure that every Auror had the most up to date equipment, not just Ron and Harry who had been wearing a prototype for the last six months.  

The necklaces they wore were more than simply fashionable jewelry. It was much more than that, and Hermione’s need to make them the best, most advanced tools possible was wearing her thin. But whenever she thought about Ron or Harry needing it, she pushed herself a bit harder.   

Tonight she had finally completed the upgrades and work could return to normal, at least for the moment. That was why she didn’t go after Ron. She was not going to get home at a decent hour to begin with. She certainly didn’t want to add more time to it. So she made a choice, and hoped it wouldn’t come back to haunt her. 

 

The flat was completely dark and quiet as she placed her things on the table. For an insane moment, she thought Ron had left her, but she knew that was ridiculous. Even though she recognized that she had been neglecting him these last six months. 

 

It tore at her terribly not to be able to be at home when he got off from work, or at the very least, come home together. That’s how it used to be when they first moved in together. He’d swing by her office and they’d Apparate home, then one of them would start dinner, but they could never get though it without making love somewhere entirely inappropriate. Hermione missed those times. It seemed a life time ago. 

 

As she made her way down the small hallway to their bedroom, she could hear the faint snoring that was distinctly Ron’s. She breathed a sigh of relief. One, because he was home and hadn’t decided to chuck her and two, because at least the inevitable row would wait until tomorrow. 

 

Once she made it into the room, however, she was not at all pleased to find Ron sprawled across the bed in nothing but his boxers, and a near empty bottle of firewhisky spilling onto _her_ pillow. She had half a mind to slap him awake only to knock him out again. But the part of Hermione that loved to take care of her usually sweet Ron, simply pulled out her wand and did away with the bottle of whisky, then cleaned her pillow. 

 

As she tried, unsuccessfully, to move him from the center of the bed over to his side, a tattered book fell to the floor. Hermione knew instantly that it was his journal. He had stacks and stacks of them locked away in a drawer in their spare bedroom. 

 

Her brain would not even entertain the notion of reading something this personal, but as she bent over to pick it up, her name popped out at her. It seemed to be in every other sentence. Hermione quickly shut the book and placed it on the night table with a trembling hand. 

 

Her insides squirmed with the desire to know what Ron had written about her. She had rationalized that he would write about her; that was only natural. Whenever she questioned him about the journal, he always assured her that it was mostly work stuff, after all, work was stressful. Hermione stood over the night table staring intently at the journal, while a battle was going on inside her head. 

 

_\--‘Hermione Jane Granger! You absolutely can not read that journal!’_

_\--_ ‘But what if it’s really important, and what if it will help our relationship?’

_\--‘Then talk to him, ask him if everything is all right…even though you know it’s not.’_

_\--_ ‘What if he won’t talk to me? You know how he is…stubborn to a fault.’

_\--‘Then make him talk…I seem to remember that you can be quite stubborn yourself!’_

_\--_ ‘But…but what if he wants to leave me? I need to know...’

 

The battle seemed to be won _or_ lost on that point indeed. Whatever the case, Hermione snatched the book off the night table and rushed to the bathroom, quickly closing and locking the door behind her. Once inside, she sat on the edge of the bathtub with the book clutched in her delicate trembling hands. Before she could have another battle with her conscience, she opened the book and flipped to the middle.

 

  _November 12th,_

_Today is going to be a good day. I don’t really have anything planned, but Hermione is off all day and as far as I can tell, she didn’t bring home any work. She has a list of chores for me to do, and I’ll do them gladly as long as she continues to walk around in those glorious Muggle cut-offs she’s wearing. She calls them her rubbish short-pants, only used for cleaning, but I love them. Merlin, her arse is delicious. I can wank for hours just picturing it. It’s perfection. And although I don’t understand how or why Muggle women wear them, those things she calls thongs are the greatest things ever invented! She’s so bloody beautiful._

Hermione knew her cheeks were colored. She had no idea Ron felt that way about her bottom. Before she knew it, she was eagerly flipping further into the journal. 

 

  _January 30th,_

_I came home today not expecting to see Hermione for several hours, but was surprised when she arrived less than ten minutes after me. Although she was bogged down with rolls of parchment for work, I was just pleased to have her in the same room with me. And I was floored when she actually stopped work long enough to let me make love to her. I knew it was a “mercy shag,” but being inside of her feels like bathing in warm champagne. Not that I’ve ever done that, but I can only imagine it’s warm and wet with tiny bubbles bursting all around you. That’s how it feels whenever I’m with her._

_She didn’t look me in the eyes this time. I could tell that she came, but I still look for that, that connection that we used to have. Her mind wasn’t completely on me and I understand. The pressures at work are wearing her thin. I just wonder if she will stop looking at me altogether._

Hermione closed the book. She couldn’t read any longer, the tears made it impossible to see clearly. Wiping them away with shaky fingers, she was angry with herself for taking advantage of a man who had done nothing but love her. Yes, he could be stubborn, and hot tempered, and insanely jealous, but he was all hers. She loved him more than her job, more than any project or assignment, and apparently more than he knew from what was written in the journal. 

 

Despite her better judgment, Hermione decided to read more. She knew in the pit of her stomach that it was not going to get better, but she had to know if he was going to leave. If there was something she could do to fix this mess she had made, then she needed information. She flipped near the end of the journal and jumped halfway down the page. Ron must’ve been feeling rather randy on this day.

 

  _…Sometimes, I wish Hermione would just take me and grab me and shag my brains out. I get so incredibly hard when she bosses me around. She’d probably think me mental for saying such a thing, but I love it when she tells me what to do. I want her to feel free to be a total vixen with me, a scarlet woman, as my mum would say. But nonetheless, I want her to feel like she can be as wicked as she wants to be and know that I will love her all the more for it._

_I think she is embarrassed to talk dirty to me, but God, I’d love to hear it. Love to have her control me totally in the bedroom, and I’d be willing to do it all for her. If I didn’t think she’d hex my bits off, I’d take some naughty pictures of her. At least that way, I’d have something vivid to wank to since she’s never around. Bloody hell, now I’ve got to go wank just thinking about it!_

Hermione giggled to herself as tears continued to stream down her face. She felt ashamed that she was invading Ron’s privacy, but even more ashamed that she didn’t know these things about him. She straightened her back and said resolutely,

 

“You will fix this.” 

 

Although, she did not know _how_ at the present time, she would certainly think of something. As she stood to leave the bathroom, Hermione flipped to the very last entry in the journal.From the look of it, part of the entry must have been made early in the day and the latter, was well after Ron had taken to the firewhisky, because the handwriting had become considerably less legible. 

 

_Today Mum asked what I wanted for my birthday. I couldn’t tell her what I really wanted. She’d never be able to give me that, so I simply told her a nice dinner with the family. However, all I want for my birthday is to be with Hermione. Have her all to myself without the worry that work will call her away or that she will be stressing over some deadline. No, Mum can’t give me that, hell, I don’t’ even think Hermione can give me that right now._

 

Hermione wiped her face although the tears continued to flow. She skipped down a few paragraphs.

 

  _…he spends more time with her than I do! With his bloody normal nose, and normal hair, and stupid normal face! It’s only a matter of time before she notices how bloody ABNORMAL I am! Stupid long nose and crazy red…not even red, but orange hair and stupid freckles! You were a fool to even think she’d be happy with a freakishly disfigured—_

 

Hermione surmised that Ron had passed out at this point. She wiped at her eyes again, and took several calming breaths. Then an idea sprang into that brilliant mind of hers, and she could barely contain herself with all the plans she’d need to make in the morning. She quickly splashed some water on her face, and changed into her dressing gown. 

 

Pulling the bathroom door open just a crack, she saw that Ron was still snoring contently. Not wanting to risk making any noise on the floorboards, Hermione used her wand to levitate the journal safely back onto the nightstand. She crept to the bed, and snuggled in next to her sleeping bear. Ron grunted, and pulled her to him possessively, before picking up his snoring where he’d left off. Hermione kissed his cheek, and drifted off to sleep, shortly thereafter.

  

*****

  

Ron opened a bleary eye, and groaned as the previous nights activities rushed back to his consciousness. Why had he decided to drink that much knowing that he had to get up and work the next day? He was an idiot, that’s why. 

 

Regardless, he pulled himself up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He could hear Hermione finishing up in the bathroom. A moment later, she opened the door and he was surprised to see that she was fully dressed. For a moment he thought he was running late, but a quick glance at a clock revealed that she was just up early. No doubt in a hurry to get back to _Marshall_ , Ron thought bitterly. 

 

“Morning,” Hermione offered gently. Ron grunted, and stood on uncoordinated legs, then trotted heavily toward the bathroom. Hermione stepped in front of him. She looked almost frightened, but then squared her shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. 

 

Something in Ron, perhaps his desperate need to touch her, made him grab her slender waist and pull her into a bone crushing hug. Hermione let out a startled squeak, but wrapped her arms around his neck instantly. They stood for a long moment simply clinging to each other.  

 

“What time will you be home?” Hermione whispered in his ear, and Ron shivered slightly. 

 

“Um…I guess around six,” he mumbled, as he pulled away from the embrace. 

 

“Okay…um, I think we need to talk. So I’ll be home earlier than usual.” 

 

Ron looked down at her. Suddenly his mouth was as dry as cotton. Talk? Talk about what? He didn’t want the answer to that. He must have nodded his agreement, because she kissed him on the cheek again and left. Ron numbly made his way into the bathroom and tried to prepare himself for what was shaping up to be a terrible day.

 

*****

 

A terrible day? That was a vast understatement. Harry had given him hell for showing up to work at less than 100 percent. It had gotten so bad that Ron had almost let a much sought-after criminal slip past him, because he was too busy stressing over what Hermione could possibly want to talk about. He was so unfocused that he was sent home early. That was _after_ he had been yelled at for a solid hour by his Chief Auror, and advised that if he didn’t have his head together by tomorrow, he shouldn’t bother showing up at all. 

 

“Are you going home?” Harry asked, as Ron headed toward the exit of the Ministry.  

 

“No.”

 

“Where are you going then?”

 

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like sitting for hours waiting for Hermione to come home and chuck me.”

 

“What? What are you on about?” Harry stared at Ron as if he had gone mental.

 

“Nothing, forget it. Forget I said anything.” Ron hurried toward the Apparation zone. He knew Harry was hot on his heels, but he did not want to talk about it. 

 

“Ron, wait!” Harry shouted.

 

“No, it’s all right, Harry. I’ll talk to you about it later, yeah?” 

 

Harry looked very uncertain, but nodded all the same.

 

“Thanks mate, I promise I’ll talk to you soon.” Ron vanished with a loud crack before Harry could say anything else. 

 

He wandered around aimlessly for hours. He had to waste time or he’d go mad sitting in the flat all alone waiting for Hermione to come home and crush him. Every remaining page of his journal had been used, and as it was nearly the time he would be getting home from work anyway, so he summoned some of his Gryffindor courage, and Apparated to their flat. 

 

It was quiet and dark, but he had expected that. Hermione wouldn’t be home for at least another hour or two. As he made his way to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat, he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. 

 

Ron had his wand in his hand in an instant, but then he thought it was probably Hermione. _Yeah, she’d come home early to break up with me,_ he thought bitterly. All the same, Ron approached the bedroom cautiously. 

 

He pushed the door open slowly and froze. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him as if this was the way she waited for him every evening. The silky black dressing gown clung to her silhouette, and stopped at the middle of her supple thighs. Her legs were crossed and she dangled a very high heel off the tip of the toes on her right foot. 

 

“Come in Ron,” Hermione spoke, and caused Ron to start. He had gone into a trance of sorts, mesmerized by her thighs and the sexy way those heels made her ankles look. Her hair was wild around her face, she looked…smoldering. Ron felt his face color from just thinking that. 

 

“Well, am I going to have to come and get you?” Hermione spoke again, and this time Ron snapped out of his haze. He stepped into the bedroom as if it was his first time ever doing so. Hermione stood, and Ron was instantly distracted as even more thigh peaked at him from under the short dressing gown. With slightly shaking hands, Hermione unclasped his cloak and let it fall to the floor. It was soon joined by his robes. 

 

“Have a seat,” she said. 

 

Ron sat heavily on the bed trying to wrap his mind around what the hell was happening. Hermione dropped to her knees, and Ron’s cock instantly sprang to attention. However, she was not about to do what his cock so desperately wanted, she simply took off his shoes. 

 

“Make yourself comfortable,” she whispered. 

 

Ron decided that if she was planning to break up with him this way, she was going down in history as the cruelest person ever…even above Voldemort! Still, he was far too intrigued to refuse her, so he slid back on the bed until he was in the center, then he sat up against the headboard, propping pillows behind his back.

 

“Comfy?” Hermione asked coyly, as she crawled between his legs. Ron made an unintelligible sound that Hermione seemed to take as, _yes_. From her position in between his legs, Hermione turned her back to him, and tucked her legs underneath of her. She was close enough to him that if he wanted to touch her, his fingers would just be able to grasp her. 

 

Although her back was to him, he could tell that she was untying the belt of her dressing gown, and sure enough, she let it slide off her shoulders and pool around her to the bed. Ron took in a sharp breath at the sight of Hermione completely naked, with the exception of the thin black strings of those thong things she loved to torture him with. He was desperate to follow the thin black strap as it disappeared between the soft globes of her perfect arse. However, Ron didn’t ponder that thought too much longer because Hermione had just said something. With her back to him, and her delicious bum distracting him, he didn’t hear her.

 

“What was that?” he asked, surprised by the huskiness of his voice.

 

“I said… _wank_ ,” Hermione repeated, not sounding embarrassed in the least, but she hadn’t turned to face him either and there was a definite tremble to her body.

 

“Wh—What?” Ron goggled at the back of her, although his cock was eagerly willing to comply with Hermione’s request. She turned her head slightly and looked at him over her shoulder. Ron’s heart hitched in his chest, she looked unbelievable right then.

 

“Do you want me to go first?” Hermione asked. “All right then.” Before Ron could wrap his mind around what was actually happening, Hermione had turned around, spread his legs wide, and settled herself between them.

 

She then spread her legs placing them over his, and rested her thighs on top of his knees. She lay back, giving Ron the perfect view of her tiny black knickers. Hermione ran her slightly trembling hands up her torso, and fondled her perky breasts until her rosy nipples were taut and ready for tasting. 

 

Ron was going insane. What was going on? He was surely losing his mind, and rapidly losing all the blood from every other part of his body as it rushed toward his greedy cock. Suddenly, he had a terrifying thought.

 

“Hermione,” he shouted. Just as her hand was about to disappear into her knickers. 

 

She twitched, and looked up at him. “What?”

 

“What’s my middle name?”

 

“What?” She looked at him dazedly, apparently still under the fog of lust. Then she seemed to cotton on to what he was getting at.

 

“Honestly, Ron, it’s _me_. But to satisfy you, it’s Bilius. And perhaps you should ask me something that was not all over the Daily Prophet too many times to mention.” Hermione spoke casually, as she continued to tweak her nipples. Ron tried not to pay attention to this activity even though his trousers were so tight they were nearly cutting off his circulation.

 

“Right…er,” Ron murmured, trying to think of something else that only Hermione would know, but even as he did this, his hand began to stroke her thigh. She smiled and seemed willing to indulge him for the moment. 

 

 “Oh, I know…what happened during 7th year that scarred me for life?” He glared at her, this possible impostor. 

Hermione smirked at him. “We caught Harry and Ginny shagging in the Astronomy Tower while doing our rounds.” 

Ron sat back with a sigh, knowing that he was really with Hermione. No one else knew about that. Hell, Ron had begged Hermione to Obliviate him for weeks afterward, but she had refused. 

“Shall I carry on then?” she asked, still sounding rather amused by it all.  

“Er…sure,” Ron whispered. He was not at all sure what had gotten into Hermione today, but he had made a decision that he was not going to question it further. He was going to enjoy this while it lasted.

Hermione moved her hands languidly over her body, causing Ron’s mouth to water with the need to taste her. He held his breath as her hand slipped lower and disappeared beneath her knickers. She moaned, and Ron knew her hand had just made contact with her hot center. 

 

He leaned forward intensely watching the changes in her face, the flush to her skin and the movement of her fingers. Ron’s hands moved up her legs and caressed her thighs. He leaned forward even more until the tightness in his trousers became increasingly painful. With one hand still on Hermione’s thigh, he took the other and opened his buttons and zippers. His cock sprang free after only a few tugs at his boxers, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. 

 

Then he moved his hand back up Hermione's thigh, but didn’t stop there. He took his finger and hooked it in the front of her knickers then pulled it to the side so he could have a full view of what she was doing. 

 

Hermione’s fingers were soaked as they pumped in and out of her tight center. Ron knew full and well that it felt like heaven inside of there, and he wanted desperately to dive in head first and lap up all her juices. His hands convulsively clenched around her supple thighs. 

 

She moaned as her fingers began to work faster, and she bit down on her lip. Ron was on the edge of insanity. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever expected this when he came home. Merlin, he loved her.

 

“Do…do you do this often?” Ron found his voice, and was a little afraid that if he spoke he would break whatever spell they were under, because this was certainly unreal.

 

“Yes,” Hermione panted, as her face flushed crimson. 

 

Ron suspected it was from equal parts of what she was doing, and what she had just admitted. However, he was not going to waste this opportunity to get such valuable information out of her. He had a feeling that she would tell him just about anything at the moment.

 

“What do you think about when you do this?” He leaned even closer, and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs. Hermione opened hazy eyes, and fixed them on him.

 

“You…always you.” The fierceness in those three words caused a shiver to travel down his spine, and Ron looked down at his cock to find it leaking a steady stream of his own juices.  Before he could leap upon her, Hermione began to speak again, apparently quite comfortable with the conversation. 

 

“Sometimes…” she began in a whisper, “…sometimes, when it’s really late at work and I’m missing you terribly, I sneak into the bathroom in my office and I pleasure myself.” She took her fingers and opened her folds while the fingers of her other hand massaged her clit. Ron was leaning so close now that he could feel the heat coming off her skin.

 

“I have to set strong silencing spells because I always scream out your name when I come.” 

 

“Bloody hell, Hermione. You’re killing me,” Ron bit out with a ragged breath.

 

Hermione was not listening, however. Her fingers were working frantically and her legs were beginning to shake. Ron was determined not to miss a moment of this. He had never been able to have this view of her while she was in the throes of a climax. Usually he was on top of her, or busy trying to stall off his own orgasm, and could only feel the effects of hers. 

 

This time his keen eyes took in the red tint to her skin--the light sheen of sweat that evenly coated her, making her glow, and the intense concentrated expression she had on her face. The way she bit down on her lip, even though she seemed to be gasping for her last breath was utterly sexy to Ron. 

 

Suddenly, Hermione’s back arched off the bed, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her fingers stilled on her clit, and she seemed to be applying pressure to it. Every few seconds, her hand shook and then her legs quivered almost violently as she moaned out an intense orgasm.

 

It took several long moments for Hermione to calm down. The only thing stopping Ron from pitching forward and ramming himself home was the fact that he was intent on seeing the entire transformation of her climax. 

 

Now she lay completely still, the only movement was the rise and fall of her heavenly breasts. She opened heavy lids and fixed Ron with a gaze that was pure love. A lazy smile spread across her face as her hands slid down to cover his. Only then did Ron realize that he was still clutching her thighs. He quickly released them, and saw her flinch in pain. He had gripped her thighs so tightly during her climax that he’d left deep red finger marks on her alabaster skin.  

 

“Oh God--I’m so sorry,” Ron said, frantically.

 

“It’s alright.” Hermione smiled, as she pulled herself up to a seated position. She adjusted her knickers until they were in their proper position. Before Ron could continue to berate himself for losing control and hurting her, Hermione leaned forward and captured his mouth in an earth-shattering kiss. 

 

As her tongue delved deep into his mouth, Ron forgot all about her bruised thighs and threw his weight forward, pinning her to the bed. He was already frantically tugging at the thin strings of her knickers, ready to slide in to her warm depths, but Hermione pulled her mouth away from him.

 

“Wait, Ron, stop,” she panted, and gently pushed at his chest. Ron shot up off of her like a rocket, worried that he had somehow hurt her again.

 

“Sorry, are you okay?” 

 

“Yes, yes…I’m fine,” she breathed, heavily. “It’s just…it’s your turn,” she said sheepishly, despite how open and brazen she had just been. 

 

“Oh,” Ron whispered, realizing what she wanted. He was slightly startled to see that he already had a firm grip on his cock, and had even given it a few strokes. 

 

Hermione got to her knees and turned her back to him again. She bent forward, positioning herself on all fours. Ron’s grip tightened on the thick muscle protruding from between his legs. Her arse. God, he could die right now and it would be a blissful death. 

 

“Slide back some,” he moaned, and his voice sounded strangely detached in his own ears. Hermione complied, wriggling her bottom as she scooted closer to him. He cursed softly, and pumped his leaking cock a few more times. 

 

“Spread your legs a bit, luv,” he directed, and she followed the instructions to the letter, just as she did in all aspects of life. She arched her back slightly, giving Ron the most delectable view.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, as he began to stroke himself feverishly. He reached out a shaky hand and gently squeezed her soft bum. Then he let his fingers follow the black string as it disappeared between her plump cheeks. He let them slip lower to the wetness of her folds. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. 

 

“You like that?” he asked, through a ragged breath as his hand worked his glistening cock harder and faster. 

 

“Yes,” she panted, and tossed her hair to the side then looked over her shoulder at him.

 

“ _Fuck,_ Don’t move--stay just like that,”  Ron shouted, and he was certain that he had startled her, but she looked so unbelievably hot with her arse perched in the air, looking back at him like that. 

 

After only a few more pumps, Ron shouted out a gurgled profanity as long copious ropes erupted from his near purple cock. He slammed his eyes shut causing large stars to burst behind his lids. His cock seemed to throb, jerk and spurt every ounce of fluid he had in him. Ron couldn’t remember ever wanking and having an orgasm that intense before. 

 

He fell back onto the headboard with a thump and opened heavy eyes. He had made an enormous mess of himself, the bed and more so, Hermione. Vaguely, he heard her whisper a cleaning spell as his arm fell limply to his side. Even his cock seemed to have passed out, for it now lay like a sad clump in his fiery red nest of curls.  

 

That had been the most intense thing he had ever done without actually being inside of Hermione. He knew he should move or say something, but he seemed almost paralyzed. He could hear Hermione whispering spells and could feel his clothes being magically removed and replaced by pajamas, but he could only lie there contently, offering no assistance whatsoever. Hermione snuggled up beside him, and he was pleased that at least his arm began to work well enough to cradle her to him.

 

“Happy Birthday, Ron,” she whispered. 

 

He almost missed it, but he managed to work his mouth and say, “My birthday is not for four days, luv.” 

 

“I know, but let’s just say this is day one of your four days of fantasies...for your birthday.” 

 

Suddenly Ron’s mind was alert. He popped open his eyes, and looked down at Hermione’s head resting on his chest. “My…my what?” he stuttered, and she smiled.

 

“For the next three days, we are going to indulge in a fantasy of yours, I’ve got it all worked out.” She smiled up at him sweetly, and Ron was sure she really _did_ have it all worked out. He was so completely euphoric about having Hermione all to himself for the next three days that he didn’t stop to question how she knew what his fantasies would be…

 

 

 

 

AN: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Chapter 2 will be up shortly.


	2. Chapter 2

 

  **Chapter 2** — One Down, Three to Go.    

Ron woke with a start. He’d just had the most gloriously vivid dream about Hermione pleasuring herself in front of him. Wait, that wasn’t a dream! That had actually happened! Ron smiled to himself, and snuggled closer to Hermione. With a sigh, she smiled up at him as her eyes blinked open. 

“Hey you,” Ron murmured.  

“Hey yourself,” she mumbled, with a stretch and a yawn.  

“Last night was…brilliant! I feel like I have a bloody hang over!” He chuckled. 

“Mmm, yes, you did seem to pass out there a bit.”  

“So…what’s the plan for today?” Ron asked, sheepishly. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see tonight.” 

He groaned, loudly, “Tonight! I can’t wait that long!”  

“You can and you will. We both have to go to work—we will not skive off…” Hermione cut in before he could suggest it. “…besides, the wait will make it all the better.”   

“Says you,” Ron pouted. Hermione pulled that bottom lip of his into her mouth and sucked on it, causing his cock to twitch. Much to Ron’s dismay, she quickly pulled away before the kiss could get too deep, and then she practically glided into the bathroom. The last thing Ron wanted to do was leave the bed, but after his performance yesterday, he knew he had better get to work, and be on time about it.

 

An hour and a half later, Ron found himself doing something he hadn’t done in quite a while, thoroughly snogging Hermione in the middle of her office. After having a quick breakfast at the Atrium canteen, they had gone into work together. Something they hadn’t done in quite a while. Ron walked Hermione to her office, taking every opportunity to pinch her heavenly bum. He was feeling very much like he had when he’d first started dating her, and it was glorious.  

“Ron!” Hermione panted. “We have to stop, you have to get to work or you’ll be late.”

 

As much as he hated to remove his hands from her warm arse, he knew she was right. So with one last searing kiss, he reluctantly left her office. Ron gleefully shook Marshall’s hand, startling the poor man terribly, but Ron didn’t care, he was on the top of the world! Not only did Hermione want to stay with him, but she was going to give him a different fantasy every night until his birthday. 

He smiled like a pillock all the way to the Auror department. Harry seemed to have been waiting for Ron, and the minute he stepped through the door, Harry grabbed him and shoved him into an empty office.  

“All right, Ron?” Harry asked, a bit anxiously as he fixed him with intense green eyes.  

“Yeah, mate…are you?” Ron returned, rather concerned with his friend’s intensity.  

“I’m fine!” Harry practically shouted.  

“You were the one who was out in space yesterday, and almost had a royal cock-up. Then you shout out that Hermione is leaving you, and run off without explaining!” 

“Oh, that.” Ron had forgotten he’d said that to Harry yesterday. 

“Yeah that! What the hell is going on? Are you and Hermione all right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine, mate.” Harry visibly sighed in relief.  

“Well what the hell happened?” he asked, and Ron hesitated for a moment, but this was Harry, if he couldn’t talk to him about it, then who could he talk to. 

“Well, we just haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with each other lately. She’s been working a lot and well, I rather blew up at her yesterday about her new assistant…her new _male_ assistant.” Harry seemed to understand what that meant. After all, Ron’s jealousy was legendary. 

Ron continued, “Well I was certain that she was done with me, but when I got home last night she was…” Ron paused to allow a dreamy sort of expression to creep over his face. “…she was wearing nothing but tiny black knickers and she—” 

“Oi! Ron, I don’t want to hear that!” Harry shouted, covering his ears. 

“Why not? We’re blokes, we can talk about this stuff,” Ron chuckled. 

“No we can’t! Hermione is very much like a sister to me. I can’t listen to that!” 

“Oh come on Harry, you’re being ridiculous. We’ve known each other long enough. We should be able to talk about these things like two adults.” 

“Fine,” Harry said. “Let me tell you what your sister did to me last night, _and_ this morning for that matter! She’s got some mouth on her—”  

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron shouted over Harry’s laughter. “That’s different and you know it!” 

“Why, because Hermione isn’t my blood?” Harry spat, looking quite serious suddenly, and just a bit hurt. “Doesn’t make her any less of a sister to me, doesn’t make me love her less or be any less willing to die for her! That’s not fair if you think you can come to me and discuss Hermione, but I have no one to go to about Ginny!” Harry finished in a huff, and Ron felt like shite. 

“I’m sorry, mate. That’s not how I meant it. I know Hermione looks at you like a brother, and I know she’s family to you, too. It’s just weird hearing about Ginny, is all.” Ron paused, and hoped that Harry understood, because he certainly considered him a brother.  

“You know Ginny and Hermione talk about us don’t you?” Ron said, to fill the awkward silence, but that statement only seemed to make it worse. Harry’s cheeks colored slightly, and then they both burst into a fit of laughter. 

“All I’m saying, Harry, is that we should be able to talk about what’s going on in our life…all of it,” he paused with a shrug of his shoulders, and then began pacing.  “I’m not saying that I want to know how talented my sister’s mouth is…” Ron glared at Harry, and at least Harry had the grace to look sheepish, knowing that his joke went a bit too far.  “…but if things are going wrong, we should be able to talk about that. _And_ , if things are going _really_ right, we should be able to talk about that too,” he sighed. “The last six months have been pretty lonely for me, and I had no one to talk to about it…except for my journals.” Ron finished, feeling as though he had been a bit whingey, but Harry seemed to understand what he was trying to convey. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry, mate. I should’ve noticed that you were not yourself these last few months. If you want to talk, I’ll listen.” The two men stood with another heavy silence between them. Should they hug? What is appropriate behavior when you bond with a man like this? Ron gave Harry’s shoulder a hearty clap, and that seemed to do the trick.  

“So all is well now?” Harry asked.  

“More than well, mate. Hermione’s got the next three nights planned just to fulfill my fantasies.” Ron cheesed wide, as Harry goggled at him. 

“You’re kidding!”  

“’Fraid not,” Ron said, with a smirk at Harry’s shocked expression. 

“Well, maybe it’s not such a bad idea that Ginny and Hermione talk about this stuff,” Harry said, looking hopeful. The two of them howled with laughter as they headed out of the office and over to their pre-shift briefing. 

***** 

Ron hurriedly scribbled his name on the form he had just completed. It was the last of many required for the arrest he and Harry had made earlier on their shift. Harry chuckled as Ron breezed passed him with one destination in mind. 

_Hermione!_  

Once again, he Apparated home to a dark and silent flat. This time his heart was thudding for an entirely different reason. Ron wondered where Hermione was, but he assumed he should start looking in the bedroom. After all, the flat was not that big.  He traveled down the small hallway, and pushed open the door. There was a distinct thump in his chest, and simultaneously, a thump in his trousers at the sight that greeted him. Hermione was seated in the exact same position as she was the night before, only this time she wasn’t wearing the black silk dressing gown. In fact, she wasn’t wearing anything at all.  

“Hi,” she whispered, and looked up at him with an angelic smile. Ron found it a bit much that he was yet again rendered speechless by the sight before him. It’s not as if he’d never seen her naked before but God, it never became any less amazing. This time, however, Ron’s brain seemed to snap into gear a lot quicker than before. He stepped into the room as Hermione stood. Immediately, his eyes went to the neat patch of brown curls between her legs. She stepped up to him, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Quickly, it became deep and sultry with Ron’s massive erection digging into her stomach. He began to maneuver them to the bed, but Hermione protested. 

“Ron, wait!” 

“What?” he breathed. 

“This is not your fantasy.” 

“I beg to differ,” he said, and attacked her neck with his hot tongue. For a moment, he seemed to be winning the battle, because Hermione moaned and arched into him.  

“No, Ron!” She pushed him off her, causing a loud growl to escape his throat. 

“Come on, you won’t be sorry, I promise.” She took his hand, and led him toward the bathroom. 

“How could I be sorry, whatever this fantasy is, it involves you being starkers,” he mumbled, and slid his large hand over her bum, then squeezed. 

“Well, I won’t be the only one,” Hermione said, and pushed open the bathroom door to reveal the magnificent transformation it had under gone. Ron’s jaw dropped as he gaped at the massive space that looked nothing like it did that morning. It was filled with ivory candles floating in the air and the only other thing in the bathroom was an enormous sunken tub. Gone were the vanity sink and toilet.  

“What did you do? _How_ did you do it?” Ron stared at Hermione with wonderment.  

“Oh, well I banished the sink and toilet, then expanded that wall, she pointed, “then enlarged the tub. Oh and I made it an in-ground.” 

“Oh, is that _all?_ ” Ron remarked with a tone mixed with sarcasm and amazement. But he quickly forgot how amazing the bathroom was, as Hermione was now undressing him. She tossed his robes to the floor and slowly began to unbutton his shirt.  

Ron couldn’t help himself, he had to touch her. Reverently, he ran his hand along her sides in slow circles. Her skin was the softest living thing he had ever felt and he longed to taste it. Hermione pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and let that fall to the floor. Methodically, she ran her delicate hands over his taut chest, and down to the rippling muscles of his stomach. The next instant, she was tugging at his belt in an eager but gentle fashion.  

Ron took this opportunity to simply stare at his wonderful witch. She had grown into a remarkably beautiful woman. As he thought of this, his hands absently stroked her hair, and before he could stop himself, he was pulling her face toward him for a kiss. She sank into him as her hands slipped into the sides of his trousers to push them down past his hips.  

Hermione pulled away gently, apparently intent on finishing the task at hand. Ron began looking around the bathroom, and reveled in the fact that Hermione was absolutely perfect. Looking in the tub, Ron noticed the water looked to be a golden color or perhaps it was from the glare of the many candles.  

“Is there something in the water?” Ron asked, and Hermione looked up at him with a devilish grin. 

“Champagne,” she said, as she tugged on Ron’s boxers pulling them down around his ankles, and causing his magnificent erection to jut up in the air like a mighty fist. When Hermione was once again face to face with Ron, however, his expression was not one of anticipation and desire. He looked rather confused and working toward angry. 

“Cham—champagne? How did you…” he breathed, but the realization hit him like a brick. _No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t_. But as soon as his fierce blue eyes met her guilty brown ones, Ron knew. 

“You read my journal!” he shouted, and it wasn’t a question. Taking a step back, Ron stumbled a bit over the boxers still around his ankles, and then he kicked them off angrily. Hermione’s mouth hung open as though she were waiting for a valid excuse to simply fly right into it.  

“You did, didn’t you? Why? Why would you do that?” Ron whinged, feeling inexplicably betrayed.  

“Ron, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! It was an accident I swear!” She pleaded with him, stepping forward to place a hand on his chest. He didn’t attempt to remove it, probably because most of his mental faculties seemed to have shut down.  

“You can’t _accidentally_ read something, especially not a book!” He fixed her with a wide-eyed accusatory glare. “I’m so stupid! You were acting so oddly yesterday, so much so that I thought you were Polyjuiced! But I’m so bloody desperate for some attention from you that I didn’t even see what was in my face! Of course you read it, why else would you let me—” he snapped his mouth shut, feeling a little perverted after what he’d done last night.

“You invaded my privacy! Why would you do that?” Ron was really shouting now, and he wanted desperately to stop because with every word, Hermione flinched. Tears were brimming in the wells of her eyes, but had not fallen yet.  

“Ron, please, let me explain. I…I have never, _ever_ read your journal before the other night,” she was beginning to tremble and although he was furious with her, his natural instinct was to hold her until she was okay, but he fought against it. Her voice quivered as she continued. 

“You were passed out and as I tried to move you, the book fell open. I saw my name and something just…just went off inside of me. I…I felt terribly insecure, and I needed to know what you had written about me,” she panted rapidly as she explained. “I knew I shouldn’t have been doing it, but I couldn’t stop myself! I’m _so_ sorry!” Now both hands were on his chest, and it was as if she was anchoring him to the world, because it would surely spin off its axis if Ron could no longer trust Hermione. 

“In the past five years, I’ve never even had the desire to read that journal, but lately be—because of what’s been going on with us, I was afraid th—that you might want to leave me,” she whispered that last part. “I was frightened, and I gave into it…I’m sorry.” Hermione finished sadly, and stared at Ron with pleading eyes.  

“Please say something,” she begged. “I know what to do with a shouting Ron, or a Ron that’s throwing a tantrum but…but I can’t handle a silent Ron,” when he still didn’t speak, Hermione continued, “I only read about four pages, Ron—”  

“Hermione, stop.” He cut in, and she instantly stopped speaking. Her hands trembled, still in their position splayed across his chest. Ron looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes.  

“I…I don’t really know how to feel about this,” he whispered. Hermione stepped closer to him, gripping his shoulders in sheer desperation.  

“Ron, just see that it was an isolated incident. It has never happened before and it will NEVER happen again…I promise! But…but it got us here.” She gestured wildly around the romantic bathroom. “All I want to do is please you…please, let’s not waste this night. Let’s just get in the bath and enjoy ourselves. Please Ron… _please_!” 

Hermione stared at him groveling with her eyes, and Ron must have given a slight nod because she seemed to relax a bit and put a shaking hand into his to led him over to the tub.  Ron was numb as he followed Hermione mindlessly. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he knew he was not ready to get into that tub. Before his brain could allow his mouth to voice a protest, he was stepping into the warm bubbly champagne.  

Ron shivered as he went deeper into the liquid. He sat on a bench-like groove that ran around the inside of the tub and caused the champagne to rest below his shoulders. The fluid sparkled and fizzed around him making delightful sensations burst on his skin. It was…fantastic! Unfortunately, the mood was not at all conducive to such splendor. Silence gripped the couple as Ron sat on one side of the large bath and Hermione on the other.  

“Are you all right?” she asked, timidly. Ron could see that she was trembling as if she was cold, when in actuality, it was very warm in there. It took a moment before his true feelings were suddenly able to be articulated.  

“I…I just feel…violated, Hermione,” he whispered, feeling a touch dramatic, but that was how he truly felt. The silence stretched as Ron looked down into the sparkling gold liquid. Suddenly, Hermione burst into tears so violently, it scared Ron. He was on his feet in an instant, sloshing over to her and pulling her up into his arms. 

“ _Shh…_ don’t cry, love. I’m sorry, don’t cry.” Ron held her tight to him, stroking a hand through her hair. He felt like shit. He knew in his heart that Hermione would never do anything to hurt him, and he also knew that he could trust her.  More than anything, Ron felt embarrassed. Those things he wrote in that book were private because they were silly. Silly, simple thoughts from a silly simple man, and if he really thought about it, he should be jumping for joy that Hermione had read the bloody thing and still wanted to be with him, because clearly, it was filled with the ravings of a lunatic.  

“Don’t ap—apologize, you…you have nothing to be sor—sorry about!” Hermione hiccupped more, and then took a few calming breaths. "I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” Her voice was low and held a defeated tone that Ron had never heard before.   

“No, you haven’t, Hermione. I was just surprised and reacted badly. I’m just embarrassed, is all,” he kissed the top of her head as she pulled back to look at him. She was utterly beautiful in that moment. Merlin, he could never stay angry with her. Honestly, everything she did, she did out of love for him.  

“Why would you be embarrassed? Ron, the things you wrote were beautiful.” She reached up a quivering hand and caressed his cheek. “You’re a beautiful man and everything in your head is pure beauty, Ron. I wish you could see _you_ , the way I see _you_. Then you’d know…you’d know how perfect you are.” Her head fell forward to his chest again, and Ron couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat. The silence lasted long moments as they held each other and swayed slightly in the bubbly.  

“Is this _really_ what it feels like to be inside me?” Hermione asked, indicating the champagne. Ron looked at her for a moment, and then suddenly they both burst into laughter.  

“Not really, love, no. I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote that. As wonderful as this feels, nothing can compare to the feeling of being inside you,” he whispered. His voice had suddenly taken on a husky tone and within an instant they were frantically kissing. 

Ron stumbled backward and landed awkwardly on the seat, Hermione still clinging to him. She straddled his lap as her tongue delved deep into his mouth. Ron moaned, and pulled her closer. They were sloshing around in the champagne as they groped and fondled each other.  Ron’s hot mouth blazed a trail down Hermione’s neck and shoulder until he reached her breasts. _Wow_ , if he thought they were sweet before, it was nothing compared to Hermione's breasts dipped in champagne. He sucked her taut nipple into his mouth, swallowing down some of the sweet liquid in the process.  

Hermione moaned loudly and arched into him. Ron worked his tongue around her deftly, causing Hermione to thrash about. He moved over to pay equal attention to her other breast. She began to grind her hips on his lap, and Ron momentarily lost his ability to move. The fizzing from the champagne combined with the delectable friction from Hermione’s pelvis was threatening to send him into a massive eruption. Ron stilled her undulations with firm hands as he let her succulent breast slip from his mouth.  

“Lay back, love,” he whispered. Hermione seemed confused, but nevertheless complied, arching back so that her wild curls became saturated with the sweet liquid.  

“All the way…can you float?” Ron instructed further as a wicked idea took life in his head.  

“Um…yeah, I think so.” Hermione hesitated for a moment, then she spread her arms and arched back even further, kicking her feet out until she made a graceful ark with her body and floated on the surface.  

“Whoa, you looked like a Mermaid doing that!” Ron said in amazement.  

“Ugh Ron, Mermaids are horrible looking creatures,” Hermione snorted, causing Ron to color slightly and chuckle. 

“Oh, yeah they are, but I meant what _Muggles_ think Mermaids look like, and that’s damn sexy!” He pulled her foot to him, and sucked her big toe into his mouth causing her to giggle.  Ron got on his knees and dunked his head under. He thought it best not to open his eyes since this was not water and he was in no hurry to find out if champagne burned. When he popped his head back up, he was right between Hermione’s legs. _Perfect_. 

He ran his tongue up her thigh and was rewarded by the shiver that traveled through her body. The sweet taste put a smile on his face, and he lapped at her juicy flesh eagerly. Hermione moaned and squirmed again. Ron slowly and tortuously kissed his way up her inner thigh until he was at her center. He paused and blew his warm breath over her, causing Hermione’s body to quiver. 

“Ron, please!” she begged. Not being one to ever be able to resist a begging Hermione, he immediately obliged, and plunged face first into her sweet folds. She screamed her delight and attempted to grab his head, but was unable to reach him and maintain her posture for floating.  

Ron lapped at her greedily, taking in great mouthfuls of champagne in the process. Hermione moaned and thrashed about sending waves of the liquid over the sides of the tub and onto the floor. Ron paused, evilly knowing he had her right at the edge. Hermione raised her head slightly, apparently trying to see why he was stopping. 

“You’re going to go under if you keep trying to look at me.” Ron chastised with a smirk.  

“I want to see and I can’t seem to get a grip on anything,” she panted. “I can’t reach your head and the edges of the tub are too slippery.” 

“And you absolutely have to grab onto something?” Ron asked as he lazily kissed the inside of her thigh. He already knew the answer to that question. Hermione always gripped something when he pleased her with his mouth. Usually it was his hair, so much so that he was worried he’d soon be balding like his father. Other times, she gripped the sheets. She’d actually ripped them once. So he knew it was killing her not to have something to hold onto. Ron placed a gentle kiss on the soft wet lips between her legs, then stood and trudged over to the edge of the tub. 

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked. 

“Just a tic, love,” Ron whispered, then stretched his long arm out and pulled his robes to him. He removed his wand from the inside pocket then turned back to her. Hermione eyed him curiously as he raised his wand and mumbled a spell. Before she could question him, a large mirror appeared on the ceiling. His wand waved again and all the candles floated to the perimeter of the room.  

“Oh, my,” Hermione breathed, as she looked up at herself floating in effervescent golden liquid. 

“Liked that, did you?” Ron smirked, but he was not finished yet. One last flick of his wand and brass handles appeared on either side of the tub. Hermione instantly reached out and gripped them. 

“Impressive, Mr. Weasley,” she said with a sly smile at his beaming face. Ron looked up at her in the mirror. With her arms and legs spread wide, it reminded him of a time in sixth year, when he secretly watched her lying in the snow making an angel. They weren’t speaking at the time so he stayed off in the distance and gazed at her longingly. Ron smiled as he tossed his wand to the floor then resumed his position on his knees between her legs.  

“If you think that was impressive, you haven’t seen anything yet, Miss Granger!”  

“ _Ooh_ , am I in for—” Whatever Hermione was going to say, died in her throat as Ron’s mouth clamped down on her sweet center. Hermione instantly tightened her grip on the brass handles.  Before long she was writhing and moaning frantically. With her legs draped over his shoulders and her ankles crossed behind his back, Hermione had Ron’s head secured right where she needed it.  

The champagne sloshed and splashed wildly under her rolling hips. Waves of it seemed to fill Ron’s mouth and some even went up his nose. He knew he’d have to do something soon, otherwise, he risked drowning for sure.  Having learned early on how to get Hermione off quickly, Ron knew what he had to do. It was a skill that came quite naturally to him, surprisingly enough. It only confirmed to him that he was made to love this woman. 

While there were many techniques he could use to get an orgasm out of Hermione, one sure way was to kiss her folds like he was kissing her mouth. No fast tongue flicking or any of that nonsense, but simple smoldering, passionate kissing. Ron began to work his lips and tongue in through her folds as if he was deeply kissing her mouth. Instantly, Hermione stilled, she seemed to know what was coming. Ron didn’t do this to her often because she came so hard the first time, she passed out. Scared him to death! 

“Oh…Ron…please…yes!” she screamed, holding her hips as still as she could manage with her legs quivering as madly as they were. Ron held her bum to him as if he was holding a bowl of tantalizing food to his mouth. Then his lips closed around her swollen nub and he began to gently suck.  Hermione was moaning and screaming so loudly now, Ron was afraid that the neighbors would think he was murdering her. Suddenly, her screams got caught in her throat and gave way to choking and gasping. Her body began to quake and Ron could feel her inner muscles spasm against his mouth.  

After a few intense moments like this, Hermione's body went limp. So limp that Ron feared she had passed out again, but a quick look at her face showed that her eyes were still open. However, if it weren’t for the rise and fall of her chest, Ron would have been certain that she had died; her stare was so blank and sated.  He pulled her hips to him as he floated backward and took a seat on the groove in the side of the tub. Ron placed Hermione's pliant body on his lap, peppering tender kisses on her neck and shoulders.  

“All right there, love bug?” he hissed in her ear. She moaned and pulled her head back to fix him with a dazed look. 

“One day, you’re going to do that to me and I’m going to slip into a coma or something,” she whispered, and smiled hazily at him.  

“Surely you’re not complaining are you?” he asked, with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Absolutely not, I’m just warning you, when I end up in St. Mungo’s you’ll be the one to tell my parents, _and yours_ , what you did to me.” She chucked and so did he. Hermione leaned forward and kissed him soundly. Just as Ron was getting into it, she pulled away, slid off his lap and sank down under the surface.  

A split second later, he felt her hot mouth close around his cock. Ron sucked in a massive breath. The sensation was out of this world! The tiny bursting bubbles from the champagne, coupled with the skilled suction of Hermione’s mouth, were proving to send him over the edge far too quickly. However, Hermione popped up a moment later gasping for breath.   

“Oh my!” she panted. “I thought I could hold my breath longer. I swallowed so much champagne…it’s really good though.” She coughed a bit.  

“Here, stand up,” she said instructively, and Ron complied without hesitation. The liquid came to his hips leaving just a little more than the head of his cock poking through the surface.  Hermione sank to her knees and was in perfect position to set to work on him. She wrapped her delicate hand around his thick cock and caused Ron to groan with anticipation. 

He watched transfixed as Hermione stretched her mouth around his tip and sucked.  Ron suddenly remembered the first time Hermione had seen him naked. She’d simply stared at is cock causing him to grow quite self-conscious. Ron had always thought it was rather short and inadequate, when in actuality, he was pretty average in length. However, what he may have lacked in length, he more than made up for in girth.  

Hermione was never able to fit her hand completely around it and it stretched her mouth so much, that she often complained about having a sore jaw afterward. But she also told him that she loved his cock. While it took quite a long time for it not to feel as if it were ripping her apart, she now she says that it fills her in the most delicious way.  Ron moaned and let his head fall back heavily to the wall. Hermione had a rhythm going with her mouth twisting and sucking his head while her hand pumped up and down his shaft. Then she released his cock with a loud slurp, and dipped under the surface to suck his balls into her mouth.  

“Fuck!” Ron shouted, as Hermione began to pump his shaft vigorously while she continuing to suck his balls. He wanted desperately to sit down, his legs felt like jelly. It wouldn’t be much longer before he exploded. His head was swimming now and he was certain it was a combination of what Hermione was doing and what had to have been a full bottle of champagne he had ingested.  

Ron reached out clumsy hands and latched onto Hermione’s hair. She brought her mouth back to his cock, and Ron growled loudly as she pumped her mouth vigorously, gently squeezing his balls with one hand. Ron timidly thrust his hips, trying unsuccessfully, to keep from going into a full-fledged fuck of her mouth. Hermione seemed to encourage exactly that as she gripped his buttocks and pulled him to her.  As she took him deeper, she began to moan in the back of her throat and that was Ron’s undoing. The vibrations caused a chain reactions deep from within his balls that he felt travel the length of his shaft and explode into Hermione’s mouth. It was so forceful that Ron lost all control of his legs and dropped hard to the seat. His cock slipped from Hermione’s mouth, but she immediately chased it under the surface catching it again for a few last sucks.  

By the time she came up for air, Ron was barely able to remain in a seated position. He felt her plant delicate kisses along his jaw line, but he was too dizzy and too knackered to respond. Then he heard Hermione giggle and that caused his eyes to open thickly as if they had been coated in molasses. 

“I think I might be a little tipsy,” she giggled again, and much to his surprise, Ron giggled as well. Then he knew he must be pissed because…he does not giggle! 

“My goodness, I swallowed a stone of that stuff!” Hermione said with a smile, and her eyes did look a bit unfocused. Ron suddenly realized that they needed to get out while they still had enough of their wits about them. Two intoxicated people in an oversized tub were a recipe for disaster. 

“Come on, let’s get out.” Ron stood, and felt as though he weighed a thousand pounds. He helped Hermione up and the two of them slipped and stumbled into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.  

“Bloody hell! The room is spinning!” Ron groaned. He was amazed how something so marvelous could turn so nauseating in only a matter of minutes. He felt Hermione sit up beside him, but was unable to open his eyes for fear he’d retch all over the place. She was moving and jostling the bed far too much, but suddenly he felt fine, great even. He opened his eyes and saw that Hermione had her wand in her hand. 

“Sobering charm,” she smiled then pointed the wand at herself and mumbled the spell. A second later she aimed her wand toward the bathroom and gave it a very complicated movement. Ron heard rumbling and scraping noises coming from inside and assumed the bathroom was being returned to normal. Flopping back on the bed, Hermione gave a great sigh.  

“The charm sobered us, but did nothing about the exhaustion,” she said and Ron groaned in agreement. Then he pulled her wet body to him, wrapped them in a blanket and they were both sleeping soundly in a matter of minutes.  

*****  

The next day, Ron stumbled through work, exhausted but still excited about what he might find when he got home. Hermione had taken the day off, stating that she had lots of preparation to do. Ron was certainly astounded that she was not only coming home at a normal hour, but had actually taken a day off. He couldn’t help but feel special. This was his last shift before the weekend and he was looking forward to having some time off. Never before had he anticipated his birthday as much as he did now. He could only imagine what the last fantasy would entail.  

Currently, he sat in the small park across from their flat. Hermione had given him strict instructions not to return before six in the evening. Unfortunately, he was through with his shift an hour early. One side effect to having vanquished Voldemort, sometimes it was slow to be an Auror. Now, Ron had time to waste.  Reflecting on what had happened over the last two days, Ron found he was quite surprised that he’d had two of the best orgasms of his life, and had not actually shagged. He also found that he didn’t really care if he shagged tonight either.  Ron thought for sure that he’d be dwelling on the fact that Hermione had read his journal, but he wasn’t. He actually believed her when she said that she hadn’t read much. Honestly, he couldn’t say that if he had been in her position, he wouldn’t have done the same thing. In fact he knew he probably would have. His fear that she wanted to leave him would have certainly been motive enough for him to snoop through her personal items. 

Bloody hell! It was 6:01! He’d wasted a whole minute… _thinking_! Ron snorted, then Apparated into the flat and quickly removed his robes, tossing them over the back of the sofa. He knew Hermione would fuss about that later, but he needed to get to that bedroom. When he pushed open the door, he was shocked to find it empty with the exception of a changing partition on the far side of the room. Ron hoped that Hermione was behind it.  

“Ron? Is that you?” she called from behind the screen, and Ron breathed a sigh filled with anticipation.  

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, as he stepped further into the room. 

He was about to asked if she had forgotten about the fantasy for tonight, but it never made it out of his throat because Hermione stepped from behind the screen wearing…her Hogwarts uniform! Only it wasn’t quite the same. The pleated skirt was at least a few inches shorter than Ron remembered and the blouse was certainly a lot tighter. Hermione bit her lip and looked up at him behind a heavy veil of lashes. 

Before Ron’s mind could even register what he was doing, his feet were already moving and he had grabbed Hermione in his arms crushing her to him with a passionate kiss. His hands were roaming frantically…Ron was nearly out of his mind.  Because he and Hermione didn’t get together until after they left Hogwarts, he’d never had a chance to indulge in all the lusty thoughts he’d had about her in that bloody uniform. And he’d had many! His cock was so hard it was threatening to have him doubled over in pain. The roar was quieted a bit as had Hermione pressed against him in the most fantastic way. The feel of her rock hard nipples pressed against his chest was causing him to groan with need as his hands traveled up her skirt, mauling her arse savagely.  

“Ron!” Hermione pushed away from him, panting. Ron groaned. 

“Hermione!” he mocked her tone.  

“This is not your fantasy!” she breathed. Ron rolled his eyes as his hands continued to roam under her skirt. 

“You obviously didn’t read much of my journal because I go on for at least three pages on just how much this _is_ my fantasy! I also spent quite a few pages talking about how wonderful it would be to come home and find you starkers!” He smiled down at her thinking about finding her that way last night. Hermione looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of the journal, but she recovered quickly.  

“Well then, consider yourself lucky that you are getting more of your fantasies fulfilled,” She smiled coyly then picked up her wand and gave it a wave. Ron heard a pop behind him and turned to see a rather large old fashion camera sitting on a wooden tripod. It was positioned right at the bed and before Ron could question, he heard Hermione whisper something else. He turned toward their four poster bed to see that it was now lavishly decorated with crimson hangings, gold satin sheets and rose petals sprinkled about. Ron looked back at the camera, then at the bed and finally at Hermione.  

“What’s all this?” He stared dumbly.  

“Well, I thought you might like to take some pictures…of me,” she said shyly, then looked away.  

“Oh.” Ron swallowed. 

“Um…yeah, sure,” he finished uncertainly. Hermione stepped away from him and over to the camera and Ron’s eyes followed her, mesmerized by that snug uniform. 

“All you have to do is look down into this—” 

“What did you do to your uniform?” Ron interrupted, and Hermione seemed to be thrown by his question as she stared blankly at him for a moment. 

“Oh,” her cheeks colored slightly. “Nothing…it’s…it’s from fifth year,” she whispered, and blushed crimson. “I suppose I’ve filled out in certain areas since then.” 

“I’ll say!” Ron stepped up close and ran his hands up the back of her thighs. That uniform was driving him bonkers. Hermione tried to continue with her explanation and ignore what his hands were doing. 

“Look down in here and you’ll be able to see the shot you want, then…” she picked up a cord attached to the camera. “…press this button and that’s it.” She turned in his arms. 

“Have you heard a thing I’ve said?” 

“Mmm, yeah sure,” Ron answered distractedly, now kissing her neck. Hermione pulled away, much to Ron’s dismay. She backed up until she reached the bed. Then she crawled to the center and sat with her legs crossed in front of her, looking very much like a school girl. They stared at each other for a moment. 

“Well, Ron, what do you want me to do?” 

“Oh!” Ron jolted slightly, and stepped toward the camera. He really had no idea what to do so he simply looked between Hermione and the camera a few times. 

“Well, how do you want me to pose?” She offered, seeming to understand his difficulty.  

“Er…well, maybe…maybe I’ll take one like this first.” He pressed the button on the end of the cord and a loud pop accompanied by a flash of light resounded in the room. Ron smiled; _this is going to be fun._  

“How about you…er…um…undo a few buttons?” His ears burned red, but he quickly forgot his embarrassment as Hermione studiously complied. Her plump cleavage peeped out at him and Ron felt his trousers go tight even more. He quickly pressed the button allowing for the pop and flash.  

“Er…open the top completely…please.” He added as an after thought, thinking that he sounded a touch bossy. Hermione obeyed without hesitation. She pulled the blouse open to reveal a white laced bra.  

“Aren’t you going to snap the picture?” Hermione asked after several minutes of Ron goggling at her. 

“Oh, right.” He snapped the picture, and Hermione began to absently caress herself while she waited for him to decide what his next shot would be. Ron, however, found her current actions quite picture worthy and snapped another one.  

“Keep doing that.” He practically moaned as he adjusted his stiff cock. Hermione uncrossed her legs and gave him a delicious glimpse of her white lace knickers.  

“Lift your skirt, love,” Ron whispered with a slight cringe, because he sounded almost like a letch, but was nevertheless pleased when she followed his instructions. He eagerly snapped the picture. Then Hermione seemed to grow inpatient of this step by step instruction and she began to calmly pose herself.  

Ron was so shocked by this that he failed to capture the first few poses. However, when Hermione turned her back to him, bent over on all fours and flipped her skirt up over her bum, Ron snapped away like a mad man.  She pulled the shirt off and soon the skirt followed, Ron captured it all. He must’ve snapped at least six pictures of Hermione in those glorious white knickers and matching bra, but it was her knee socks that had Ron stroking his impossibly hard cock through his trousers.  

They always drove him mad in school. He constantly wanted to know what the curve of her calf looked like under them and found himself mesmerized whenever she would pull them down to give her leg a scratch because of the itchy wool. Hermione unhooked the bra and tossed it toward Ron, pulling him out of his daze. Then she turned away from him again and got on all fours. 

She looked over her shoulder and said, “You know, if you press that white button on the side, it will take pictures automatically every sixty seconds…if you wanted to join me.” It took Ron a moment to catch on to what she was saying. However, when he did, he removed his clothing, and pressed the button practically all in one go. By the time he reached the bed, Ron was only wearing his socks.  

Climbing on the bed, he positioned himself behind Hermione. His cock was so hard he was actually in pain. His hands shook as he smoothed them over her back then dipped it underneath and caressed her breasts. She moaned and backed into him.  Ron couldn’t take it any longer. He tugged at her knickers trying to pull them down, but in his desperate need, he actually ripped them off. Hermione shrieked, but seemed to be pleased by the aggressive action. Ron trembled with anticipation. He didn’t want to just ram himself into her. After all, it had been a few weeks since he had been inside her.  

He knew the thickness of his cock always caused Hermione a little pain when they hadn’t been together in a while and he didn’t want to hurt her. Ron ran his hand down her soft buttocks then further between her legs, and was surprised to find that she was extremely wet. She moaned and opened her legs wider. That was _really_ all Ron could take. He grabbed his cock and guided it toward her entrance, coating the head with her slick juices. She arched her back, prepared to take him on as Ron went in for the plunge.  

“Fuck!” he shouted, as her tightness threatened to cause him to explode that very second. His body quaked as he held himself still.  

“You okay, love?” he bit out, knowing that he needed to make sure she was all right before he began to move. 

“Yes,” she grunted, but her face was in the pillow and she was trembling terribly. He didn’t believe her, but before he could say anything, she wriggled her arse and began to move against him.  

“Merlin!” Ron wailed, then grabbed onto her hips, and began to thrust earnestly. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were screwed shut. A loud pop and flash startled him, and he looked over his shoulder at the camera. He’d completely forgotten about that contraption.  Ron tried to still himself from exploding right away, but it was difficult to say the least. Everything was threatening to send him over the edge. The sounds of heavy breathing, inarticulate grunts, flesh slapping flesh and every few seconds, a pop and flash from the camera were all threatening to have him finishing early.  

Then he looked down and saw the way Hermione’s arse jiggled every time he banged against it and he nearly bit through his lip to keep from coming. Ron could feel his balls tightening and knew he it would be over very soon. So quickly, he slipped a hand underneath Hermione, seeking out her juicy folds and began massaging her nub. She screamed out, her face still in the pillow until Ron took his other hand and snatched it away. 

“I…want…to…hear…you!” Ron grunted with each thrust. Hermione was moaning so loudly now, he was doubtful that she had even heard him. Suddenly he felt her inner muscles clamp down on his cock so firmly that Ron had no choice but to leap over that cliff right along with her. With some fiercely sporadic thrusts, Ron emptied himself inside Hermione with a shout and a string of curse words so loud he was close to losing his voice.  

Hermione fell forward in a dead heap, quickly followed by Ron. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was panting loudly as if he had run a mile…backward. They lay there, unmoving for several long moments. The camera was still snapping photos until Hermione reached out a noodle limp arm, grabbed her wand and flicked it toward the contraption, stilling it.   

Several hours later Ron awoke, not even realizing that he had fallen asleep. They were both still lying on top of the covers and practically in the same position they were in when they slumped to the bed post-climax. He raised an arm that felt as heavy as lead and rubbed his face.  After a trip to the loo, Ron went to Hermione and scooped her up in his arms. She stirred slightly, but snuggled into him. He then awkwardly picked up her wand, mumbled the spell to pull the covers back and then he placed her back on the bed. After he climbed over her, he tucked them in neatly and pulled Hermione to him. Ron kissed her on the mouth and mumbled, “I love you.” She smiled sleepily and gurgled something that sounded like, “me too.”    

 

 

AN: One more fantasy and one more chapter. Hope you all enjoyed this.

 Please leave a review! Thanks, Karen @~>~>


	3. Chapter 3 - Final Fantasy

**Four Days of Fantasies**

**Chapter 3** —Final Fantasy

  

The smell of bacon cooking have could possibly pulled Ron out of a coma, especially since it was his second night in a row falling asleep without supper. He rolled over in the bed and realized he was alone. But now the dream he had about snogging a rasher of bacon made sense, as Hermione was clearly making breakfast. 

 

Ron stumbled to the bathroom and washed himself up, then retrieved a pair of pajama bottoms and slipped them on. He trudged into the kitchen to find Hermione setting up a tray with bacon, eggs, toast, marmalade, tea and juice. She looked up and squeaked, clutching her heart. 

 

“You nearly scared me to death!” she panted. 

 

“Sorry,” Ron said, approaching her with a mischievous grin. His large hands went around her waist, and he pulled her flush against him. Before he could kiss her, however, Hermione spoke.

 

“Go back to bed!” she stated firmly. Ron pulled back, a bit confused.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m trying to prepare breakfast in bed for you and I can’t do that if you are not _in_ bed.” She removed his hands from her waist, turned him around and gave his arse a swat.

 

“Now go!” she said, and added a little push. 

 

“I love it when you boss me!” He chuckled, and returned to the bedroom like a good little boy. A few moments later, Hermione appeared, levitating the tray in front of her. It glided safely to Ron and settled perfectly onto his lap. 

 

He smiled contently, and then within the next instant, he was devouring the food like a starved animal. Hermione watched with a slightly amused expression. Then she leaned over the other side of the bed and seemed to be rummaging for something that Ron could not see. Since he had a delightful view of her arse, he was not too concerned. 

 

When she righted herself, she plopped a stack of photos on the tray causing Ron to choke on a large piece of toast. Lying before him were very graphic pictures of himself and Hermione shagging.

 

“Bloody hell!” he shouted with another cough. “You can’t just serve this up with breakfast, Hermione!” Ron picked up one of the photographs with hesitant hands, and stared at himself. His face was deep red and screwed up in the most ghastly expression as he rammed himself deep into Hermione from behind. 

 

A shiver ran through his body, straight to his cock, as _photo Hermione_ turned and seemed to look right at the real Ron, then licked her lips in an awfully naughty way. He was speechless as he flipped through each photo, stopping to pay close attention to the ones that had Hermione looking extremely fetching. 

 

“You should do this for a living,” Ron said, staring at the first photo he had taken of Hermione sitting on the bed. 

 

“I beg your pardon?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him causing Ron to laugh.

 

“I didn’t mean shag! I meant take pictures, you know, model. You’re beautiful.” 

 

“Oh,” she whispered and blushed slightly. Ron knew she still had trouble believing that she was drop dead gorgeous, but the consensus was wildly popular. Then he had a startling thought.

 

“Who developed these?”

 

“I did. It’s really rather simple once you get the potion together that will make the photo move.” 

 

“Oh,” Ron sighed in relief. He’d had a horrid vision of some geeky fellow, reminiscent of Colin Creevey, wanking over photos of Hermione’s sexy body. Hermione waved her wand and the empty breakfast tray vanished from Ron’s lap, only to be replaced by her. Ron had to admit, it was a much better substitute. 

 

“Happy Birthday,” she whispered as she snuggled in comfortably, and then kissed him thoroughly before he could reply. Within minutes, Ron had separated Hermione from her modest nightgown and was fully sheathed inside her. 

 

There was a slowness to their lovemaking now, and Ron couldn’t help but relish in the fact that he knew Hermione had no where else to be but with him. He was going to take his time and enjoy every last second of this because honestly, he had no idea how long it would last. 

 

As he moved them into various positions it was always painstakingly slow, getting Hermione right to the edge and pulling back, making the torturous state last even longer. By the time he actually allowed it to happen, she was begging for release. Drenched in sweat and exhausted, Ron rolled over on his back, pulling Hermione to him. 

 

“I don’t plan to leave this bed at all today,” he murmured, sleepily.

 

“Mmm, that would be lovely, but we have to go to the Burrow.”

 

“What? Why?” Ron opened his eyes and looked at her, hoping he’d see that she was joking.

 

“You’re the one that asked for dinner for your birthday.” 

 

“Fuck!” Ron shouted, flopping his head back on the pillow. He had completely forgotten about that.

 

“Watch your language.” Hermione chastised, half-heartedly.

 

“I’ve been yelling out that word for the last three days and you haven’t said anything.”

 

“Well that’s different. It was in the heat of passion so it’s forgivable.” A slight rosy tint colored her cheeks as she said that. 

 

“Yeah well, I’m passionate about the fact that I’m _not_ going to the Burrow,” Ron grunted.

 

“Oh yes you are Ronald!” Hermione’s head rose from his chest, and she fixed him with a no nonsense glare. “Your mother has probably been cooking for an entire week so you will show up and you will be appreciative!” Ron knew it was futile to resist.

 

“Fine, but we’re eating fast.”

 

“I will do no such thing! Unfortunately, you already eat as if someone is trying to snatch your plate, so I shutter to think what it would be like if you attempted to speed that up,” Hermione paused to allow an indignant snort from Ron. “Do not even attempt to rush me out of there!” 

 

Ron huffed but did not contest. The last thing he wanted was to have her be cross with him. Then he had another terrifying thought.

 

“So…does this mean that we won’t…that there won’t be a fantasy tonight?” he asked, hoping with all his might that she would take pity on him and send off an owl to his mum telling her that he was too sick to go to the Burrow.

 

“Of course there will be a fantasy. It will just have to wait until we get back from the Burrow.” Hermione smiled up at him, and Ron bit back another curse word. 

 

*****

 The couple Apparated to the Burrow at 5pm sharp. It was all Ron could do not to get there earlier so they could leave early, but Hermione told him, ‘ _No matter how early we go, it will just mean we’ll be there longer because we are staying until a suitable hour!’_  

Mrs. Weasley hurried over to Ron as soon as the loud crack announced his arrival, and squeezed her son up in a bone crushing hug. She stepped back only to grab him and hug him again. 

 

“Oh, my Ronnie! Happy birthday, dear,” she kissed his cheeks. “Twenty-four! I’m getting old. Our youngest boy is twenty-four, Arthur,” she said mistily as Mr. Weasley entered the sitting room. He walked over to his son and embraced him warmly. Ron immediately felt terrible for complaining about coming. While he would choose being in bed with Hermione over just about anything in the world, he knew that he would never really have to make that choice when it came to his family. He could always have both. 

 

All the same, he was happy that everyone was already there, because that would mean they could eat as soon as the food was ready. Normally they always had to wait for someone, most times it was him. Ron watched as his mum pulled Hermione into a suffocating hug, commenting on how she could stand to pick up a few pounds. 

 

Just as he was about to remark that Hermione had just enough meat on her bones, Ron felt a hand grasp his forearm. He looked over to see Harry standing next to him with a wicked grin on his face. Harry jerked his head toward the stairs, and Ron followed him out of the room. 

 

The two men trudged to the top most room, and Ron opened the door feeling very nostalgic. His mum had yet to change a thing about the room and although Ron teased her for it, he was secretly pleased. He flopped down on his bed and wondered how on earth he had slept there only two years ago. Honestly, he had reached his full height of slightly over six feet-four inches back in sixth year.  

 

Harry stood by the door watching him, apparently waiting for something. When Ron didn’t speak, Harry huffed impatiently and said, “So?”

 

“So, what?” Ron stretched out even more on the tiny bed, and folded his arms behind his head, enjoying the fact that he was clearly torturing Harry.

 

“You know what! What happened?” Harry shouted eagerly.

 

“Oh, so _now_ you want to know, is that right?” Ron smirked, causing Harry to look a little uncomfortable.

 

“I don’t want to know all the juicy bits, but give me the overview, yeah? You know you want to.” Harry gave Ron a smirk of his own, and Ron had to admit, Harry had a point. He _did_ want to tell someone how incredibly naughty his witch was, if only to thumb his nose in the face of all the blokes at Hogwarts that often wondered why he would fancy such a fuss-budget like Hermione. Oh, they all recognized that she had become quite attractive, they just didn’t think it was worth the effort to put up with all the stern rules she was sure to make a man follow. 

 

Ron knew better. Though at the time he had no first hand knowledge, Ron knew that while Hermione was certainly going to be high maintenance, she had the potential to be hell-fire in the bedroom. He’d said as much one drunken night in the dorms during seventh year only to be laughed at and ridiculed by his dorm mates. They were blind fools, the lot of them. 

 

All except Harry. Perhaps because they were the two men that knew Hermione better than anyone on the face of the earth, Harry seemed to know that Hermione would never be prudish when it came to Ron. If their rows were anything to go by, then Ron was certainly able to inspire passion from her. Harry had pulled Ron aside later that night and told him so. Ron felt inexplicably grateful for that comment. So this was the reason Ron always felt like bragging when it came to Hermione and how unbelievably hot she was. While it was not really the audience he wanted, Ron would still brag a bit to Harry.   

 

“Well…” Ron started with a smile. “Last night, I came home and she had a camera set up so I could take naughty pictures of her,” he paused for effect, and was pleased to see that Harry was staring at him with his mouth agape as he sunk into the chair by Ron’s old desk. 

 

“A camera? Hermione?” Harry said dumbly, causing Ron to smile wider. 

 

“Yeah, mate. _And_ she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform…from fifth year!”

 

“Blood hell! Don’t tell me anymore!” Harry covered his ears, but his eyes were as wide as saucers and he had a stupid expression on his face as if he was really trying with all his might to contain a grin. Ron knew he was blowing Harry’s mind because even though Ron was certain that Harry didn’t view Hermione as a prude, he was sure the man didn’t see her quite like this either. Now it all became clear to Ron why women sat around and gossiped all the time… _this was fun!_

 

“I didn’t tell you about the other fantasy,” Ron began, and waited patiently for Harry to remove his hands from his ears. He knew Harry wanted to hear, and if it had been anyone other than Hermione that they were discussing, Harry would want all the sordid details. 

 

“When I got home, she had transfigured the bathroom and had an enormous tub full of champagne,” Ron smiled smugly…he had a wonderful girlfriend. 

 

Harry gawked at him for a solid minute then he said, “How in the world did she come up with that? I mean, I know Hermione is brilliant, but no one walks around thinking about filling up bathtubs with champagne.” Harry chuckled, however when Ron didn’t join him, he stopped.

 

“What?” Harry asked seriously.

 

“Well, she got the idea out of my journal,” Ron let that statement hang and hoped Harry would catch on without him actually having to say that Hermione had _read_ his journal. Of course, Harry being as astute as he is, caught on instantly. Ron could tell Harry was guarding his expression until he could get a sense of how Ron was feeling about it.

 

“It’s all right, Harry. We had it out…or at least I shouted about it, but I understand why she did it and honestly, the end result benefited me in more ways than I could’ve imagined. But she feels terrible about it, so don’t say anything, all right?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Blimey, she read your journal…that’s so unlike her,” Harry said, almost to himself.

 

“Well yeah, but the circumstances around it made sense and honestly, Hermione is not the saint everyone makes her out to be. Hell, she stole from a teacher to brew an illegal potion and that was just second year.” The two men laughed as the bedroom door opened and revealed the topic of the conversation closely followed by Ginny.

 

“What are you two doing up here?” Hermione asked, perching herself on the edge of Ron’s small bed. Ginny plopped on Harry’s lap, eyeing the two men suspiciously. 

 

“Just talking,” Ron answered, as he pulled Hermione close to him so she could rest on his chest. 

 

“Talking about what?” Ginny asked.

 

“Stuff,” Ron snapped. “Stop being so nosy!” Ginny rolled her eyes at him and then concentrated on her husband. She seemed to know that she could get information out of him rather easily.

 

“What kind of stuff?” Ginny asked, Harry. “Because you two look rather guilty. Wouldn’t you agree, Hermione?” Hermione eyed the two men carefully, and then she shrugged her shoulders.

 

“What could these two possibly have to talk about that’s not Quidditch, anyway?” Hermione said flippantly. Harry chuckled as he scooted Ginny off his lap and stood because Mrs. Weasley had just called for dinner. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Harry said, and stretched with a casual yawn. “Ron was just telling me about his new hobby … _photography_.” The word seemed to hang in the air like a bubble. Then suddenly, Hermione’s face turned bright red as Harry burst into laughter and Ginny looked quite confused. Ron sat up so quickly, he nearly knocked Hermione off the bed.

 

“I didn’t…I…he…he… he made me tell him!” Ron shouted, pointing a finger at a laughing Harry. 

 

“Oh really? Exactly _how_ did he make you tell him?” Hermione shouted, towering over Ron now with her hands on her hips doing what seemed to be an impressive impersonation of a clucking chicken. 

 

Ron was clearly stuck for an answer so he went for the sure-fire way to keep her temper down…the laugh. With an expression as serious as he would give his Chief Auror, Ron looked up at her and said, “He used the Imperius curse on me.” Hermione stood for a moment, her mouth twitching trying not to smile. Harry was laughing heartily, now and promising Ginny that he would fill her in later. Then Hermione’s back straightened and she seemed to decide that she would play along.

 

“You’re an Auror, you know how to fight the Imperius,” she folded her arms over her chest in a satisfied way.

 

“Well, yes…but he used Veritaserum as well,” Ron grinned wide and Hermione was unable to keep her smile from cracking. 

 

“You’re impossible! You two talk about us...” she gestured between herself and Ginny. “But you two are worse than Lavender and Parvati!” Harry stopped laughing immediately. 

 

“Hey, that was a bit drastic,” he whinged. Hermione rolled her eyes and ushered them out of the room. As they were leaving, Harry said, “Hey, Gin, do you still have your Hogwarts uniform?” Thus causing a shriek from Hermione, and a further confused look from Ginny. 

 

Ron however, managed to thump Harry on the head a split second before Hermione pulled him by the ear and said, “Ronald Weasley, you’ll do well to even get a fantasy tonight if you can not keep your big mouth shut!” She released his ear with a shove. Ron’s entire head was red by the time they made it to the dinner table.

 

“You’re a dead man, Potter!” He grumbled, to a _still_ laughing Harry as he took his seat at the table.  

 

*****

   

All through dinner, Hermione had fits of nervous anxiety. She wanted to make this last fantasy unforgettable. She was certain that Ron thought her twitchy behavior was due to him spilling his guts to Harry but, honestly, she was happy that they talked about things. She just didn’t want to know about it, and she certainly didn’t want Harry to bring it up in her presence. 

 

As they sat around the fire and watched Ron open his gifts, Harry leaned forward and whispered something to Ron causing the red-heads ears to burn plum, and Harry to toss back his head and laugh. Hermione knew she needed to put an end to Harry’s teasing before the twins caught wind of what happened and then all hell would break loose. As Harry made another off-handed comment about perhaps taking up Ron’s new hobby of photography, Hermione knew what she had to do.

 

“Harry, I think perhaps you ought to stick with flying,” she said in a low voice, but loud enough to have the twins interested. Harry looked at her, perplexed.

 

“I don’t really consider flying a hobby,” he said dismissively. “But Ron said he’d show me some of the photos he just took…or maybe you’d like to,” Harry winked with a smirk and Hermione was unfazed by this. Truly, she loved that Harry felt close enough to her to tease her as he would a sister, but he was playing with fire now. Ron punched Harry in the shoulder causing him to flinch slightly, but maintain the smirk he was shooting toward Hermione.

 

“Really? Well I suppose you’re right. I don’t know that flying is exactly a hobby, but then again, I’ve heard that you like to do more on a broom than just _fly_.” Hermione crossed her legs and waited for the comment to sink in. She didn’t have to wait long.

 

Harry’s face paled instantly as his mouth hung open like a dead fish. Hermione glanced at Ginny and mouthed _‘sorry,’_ at the shocked look Ginny was giving her. But she seemed to understand why Hermione had said it. The twins, however, dove in for the kill. Harry shot Hermione a painful look that clearly said, _“Game over…you win!”_ She nodded and then excused herself to the kitchen to clear away some of the wrappings from Ron’s gifts. Not two minutes later, Ron stepped into the kitchen. 

 

“Do I even want to know what that was about?” Ron mumbled as he wrapped her in his long arms. 

 

“Harry just needed to be taught a lesson. Whatever he thinks he may know about me, I know even more about him.”

 

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to tell him.”

 

“Sure you did and it’s fine. I like that you two talk, but just keep it between the two of you, please. I mean, Ginny and I talk, how else I would know that they’ve shagged in mid-air on a broom,” Hermione snickered at the appalled look on Ron’s face.

 

“How in the hell…never mind, I don’t want to know,” Ron whispered with an expression mixed with disgust and genuine curiosity. 

 

“Well, I’m about to go.” Hermione stood on her tip-toes and kissed him quickly.

 

“Finally! I love my family, but I can’t wait to get home!” He gave her a devilish grin. 

 

“No Ron, you have to stay here for a while longer.”

 

“What!” 

 

“Yes, I need time to prepare, at least an hour.”

 

“An hour! Bloody hell, Hermione, I can’t wait another hour!”

 

“Ron, it will be worth it,” she said, and took his mouth in a scorching kiss, then left him in the kitchen, with what she knew was a burgeoning erection. Hermione quickly said her goodbyes and grabbed Ginny.

 

*****

  

The two women Apparated to Hermione’s flat. Ginny followed her down the small hallway to the bedroom. Pulling open the wardrobe, Hermione began to toss things on the bed and rummage even further. 

 

“What are you looking for, and what do you need my help with?” Ginny asked. Hermione extracted herself from the wardrobe and closed it, making her way quickly to the bed. 

 

“I need you to help me put this on.” She pulled a black leather corset out of the bag and Ginny simply gaped at her. Hermione knew that she was going to have to fill Ginny in on everything that had happened over the last few days otherwise the girl would tie her down with questions all night. So she began recalling all the events for Ginny as quickly as she could and when she finished, Ginny sat on the bed and stared at Hermione as if seeing her for the first time.

 

“Champagne?” Ginny mumbled more to herself than to Hermione. “Wow, it’s always the quiet ones. I tried to tell Harry that you were kinky, but he never wanted to believe it.” 

 

“Ginny! I am not kinky!” Hermione’s cheeks colored.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being kinky, Hermione. Just as long as it’s what you both want then it’s fine. Really, I shagged on a broom, forty feet in the air, so I’m hardly one to look down on someone for taking naughty photos or what have you,” Ginny stated casually. Hermione straightened a bit and eyed Ginny curiously. 

 

“I still don’t understand the mechanics of that. How did you two manage not to plummet to your death?” Hermione asked seriously. Ginny chuckled.

 

“Well, I think you know that Harry was practically born to be on a broom. He can control his broom like some merely control their thoughts. Harry can do things that I think would be considered illegal in some countries.” Ginny suddenly got a faraway look on her face as Hermione gaped at her. She really didn’t want to think of the twisted sort of things Harry did to his wife in the bed _or_ in the air, but she was more than a little curious as to how that actually felt. Ginny must have sensed Hermione’s curiosity. 

 

“I’ll show you how we managed it later,” Ginny smiled and Hermione frowned slightly.

 

“Do…do you think your brother would want to do that…on a broom I mean?” Ginny laughed openly.

 

“Have you _met_ my brother? Of course he’d want to do it. He’d shag you in front of The Quidditch World Cup if he thought you’d let him!” She laughed more as Hermione blushed. 

 

“Any way, let’s get you dressed, shall we?” Ginny said, picking up the corset and giving it an appraising look. 

 

Hermione took off her top, and the two of them wrestled her into the corset. She adjusted her breasts as Ginny laced the back, making it tighter and tighter as she went down. When Ginny was done, Hermione stumbled into the bathroom to finish getting dressed. 

 

“Don’t leave yet Gin, I want you to tell me if it all looks okay. 

 

“Sure.” 

 

Ten minutes later, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom causing an audible gasp from Ginny. 

 

“What!” Hermione screeched. “Is it too much?”

 “Blood hell, Hermione! You look…wicked!”  

“Really?” Hermione asked timidly.

 

“Let’s put it this way, you look sexy enough that _I_ almost want to shag you!” 

 

“Ginny!” Hermione blushed deep, but she laughed all the same. Turning to the full-length mirror, Hermione’s eyes sparkled as she took in the black leather corset that synched in her waist almost to nothing, the skimpy black knickers that barely covered her bum and the wild curls that cascaded down her back. Feeling satisfied, albeit terrified, she went over to the bed and sat down to put on her boots. Unfortunately, the corset was so tight she was unable to bend forward. 

 

“Here, I’ll do it.” Ginny knelt in front of her and zipped the black leather boot all the way up to Hermione’s knee. Then she did the other one and stood goggling at Hermione, apparently still in disbelief. 

 

“Merlin, Hermione, look at your breasts!” They were bubbled over the top of her corset like two alabaster mountains. “Ron is going to take one look at you and drop dead!”

 

“I certainly hope not.” Hermione stood up, now four inches taller thanks to the ridiculously high-heeled boots. She picked up a pair of black satin gloves and slipped them on, tugging them up to her elbows. 

 

“Gin, can you put some makeup on me, only, I’ll have to stand or something. This thing is not made for sitting,” she indicated the corset. 

 

“Sure,” Ginny pulled out her wand and conjured a tall barstool for Hermione straddle. Then set to work on her face. “Trashy right?” Ginny asked, excitedly.

 

“No! I don’t want to look like a slag! Just maybe a little…tart-like,” Hermione blushed. 

 

“No problem.” After a few complicated waves of her wand, Ginny allow Hermione to look in the mirror. She was actually quite pleased with what she found. Ginny had given her dark smoldering eyes and rather pouty, deep berry colored lips. She stood back from the mirror and turned to let Ginny see the final result. From the look on Ginny’s face, Hermione gathered it was a success. 

 

“Hermione, you look…so…so…I don’t know, but my goodness, Ron is going to shite himself!”

 

“Ginny!” Hermione giggled. “Okay, you have to go now, he will be here in ten minutes and believe me, he will be on time! Thank you so much.” They hugged each other and Ginny turned to leave, but seemed to see something in Hermione's expression that made her stop. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing…I’m just…just nervous. I hope I don’t look stupid, you know, trying to dominate him. I hope he doesn’t laugh.”

 

“Believe me Hermione, the last thing my brother is going to do is laugh. And don’t worry, Ron loves when you boss him. It gets him so randy!” 

 

“Ginny!” Hermione covered her mouth with her hand and laughed a bit. Although she knew this from reading Ron’s journal, she didn’t know that it was common knowledge. 

 

“It’s true, even Harry says so. But just incase you need some help…” Ginny turned and quickly left the room.  A minute later she returned with a bottle of firewhisky and a glass. She poured about a shot’s worth and handed it to Hermione.

 

“Liquid courage!” Ginny laughed as she watched Hermione drink it down and cough until her face was quite red. Once Hermione was breathing normally, Ginny walked to the door again. 

 

“Well, I’m off…off to go have a nice _boring_ shag, unlike _some_ people.”

 

“Ha! I doubt there will be anything boring going on in the Potter’s bedroom tonight!” Hermione countered. She thanked her friend again and a moment later heard the tell-tail whoosh of Ginny Flooing home. She was now alone

 

Picking up the riding crop, Hermione straddled the barstool once again. She was beginning to have doubts about this fantasy. It all but killed her to pleasure herself in front of Ron, but she conquered that fear by simply keeping her eyes closed, and she was completely certain that Ron would love to watch her pleasure herself. 

 

This fantasy, she was not too sure. Yes, Ron had said that he’d love for her to boss him around and talk dirty to him, but that’s easier said than done. Perhaps she had gone too far with the outfit, what if he _did_ laugh? She would be humiliated. What if he didn’t like it? It was almost ridiculous to think she could dominate such a strong man, but strength really had nothing to do with it.

 

Thinking over all the things she had in store, she knew that it was all relatively mild compared to some of the things she read when she had thoroughly researched how to be a dominatrix. Still, it was very risqué for her. She summoned another glass of the firewhisky and grimaced as the heat burst in her chest. Her heeled feet tapped out a nervous rhythm as she fidgeted on the barstool.

 

As expected, Hermione heard Ron coming down the hallway, precisely ten minutes later. She perched herself on the edge of the barstool and gripped the riding crop in her hands to keep them from trembling. However, before she could work herself into a full-fledged frenzy of nerves, Ron pushed open the bedroom door. 

 

For a brief moment, Hermione thought that Ginny was right and Ron was going to drop dead. He had stepped through the door, taken one look at her, and stumbled back a few paces, clutching his heart. 

 

Hermione could almost see his heart hammering in his chest, and she knew she needed to take control of the situation before his tense gaze made things even more awkward. This was Ron, he wanted this. _You can do this!_ She chanted to herself and before she could begin to have more doubts, she began.

 

“Take off your clothes!” Hermione ordered, and was surprised by the steady force of her voice. Ron stood dumbfounded for a moment, simply staring at her as if the world as he knew it was collapsing around him. Hermione breathed steadily.

 

“If I have to repeat myself, you will be sorry.” She slapped the palm of her hand with the riding crop, and Ron flinched, but instantly began to remove his clothing, his eyes never leaving her. Once he had stripped down to his boxers he straightened and looked at Hermione expectantly.

 

“I don’t believe I said leave the pants.” She glared at him, and he immediately pulled them off. Hermione was very pleased to see that his cock was already standing hard and firm. She stood and Ron was practically trembling with anticipation. The look on his face was that of a child about to open a much sought after Christmas gift, _and_ that gift could possibly _eat_ him. He was gleefully terrified. Hermione pulled the barstool in front of her. 

 

“Come here,” she ordered and Ron walked right up to her. Even with the stool between them, Hermione could feel the heat rising off his body and it almost made her swoon. She stepped back quickly to clear her head. 

 

“Bend over,” Ron looked confused for a second and then he leaned forward and gripped the stool, resting his forearms on it. 

 

“Like this?” he asked. WHACK! Hermione slapped Ron across the arse with the rubber side of the ridding crop and he howled in pain. Fortunately, from his position he could not see her face, for Hermione had looked absolutely horrified at what she had just done, but she was determined to play this role to the end.

 

“We have rules Ronald! And rule number one is, you will not speak until I say you can. Do you understand?” He nodded vigorously. 

 

“Good boy,” Hermione purred, rubbing the velvet side of the riding crop over the red mark that was developing on Ron’s pale bottom. She pressed her lips against it and then gave it a lick. Ron shivered as if a bucket of ice had been poured down his back. 

 

“Now…” Hermione walked around him tracing her gloved hand along his smooth freckled skin. She stopped when she was right in front of him. Ron’s face was level with the front of her knickers, and Hermione knew she’d be able to torture him terribly because of it. However, she simply dropped to her knees until she was eye level with him. 

 

When she met his eyes, it nearly took her breath away. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see when she looked into them, maybe passion, excitement, even fear, but what she was met with was pure unadulterated love. It was all consuming, and she found it hard to think and look him in the eyes when he was giving her that much of himself. Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment then went on with her plan. 

 

“We are going to play a game, Ronald. A game about trust.” His eyes changed instantly and he opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione raised the riding crop and he snapped it shut quickly. She knew he was going to protest, saying that he _did_ trust her, but Hermione knew she had destroyed some of it when she read his journal, so now she was going to work hard at getting it back completely. 

 

“As I was saying, it’s a game about trust. You already know Rule Number One, you will not speak unless I ask you to. Rule number two… you will address me as _Ma`am_ at all times. Do you understand?” Ron nodded. Hermione shot to her feet. WHACK! She severely swatted Ron on the arse again, this time on the other cheek. Ron wailed.

 

“Yes _Ma`am_!” he shouted, panting hard as he seemed to realize that he should have spoken instead of simply nodding. 

 

“Very good.” Hermione soothed his bum with the velvety side of the crop and she could tell by his breathing that he was enjoying it. “Now, rule number three…”She got eye level with him again. “You have to have a safety word.” Ron looked confused.

 

“Choose a word that you will say if things get too… _rough_ and I will stop immediately.” Ron smirked. 

 

“That won’t be necessary,” he replied coolly. Hermione almost smiled, he really was _kinky_. 

 

“Choose the word, Ron, or…” She stroked the riding crop threateningly. 

 

“If I don’t, will you hit me with that thing again?” He looked almost hopeful. 

 

“Is that what you want?”

 

“Maybe it is.” WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Hermione had shot up in a flash and gave each cheek two fierce smacks. Ron growled loudly, and gripped the barstool so tight his knuckles were white. Hermione gave him another whack just for the hell of it. He hollered out again with a ragged groan. 

 

“That was for your cheeky attitude. Now choose the word or you will _not_ get another, since you seem to like it so.”

 

“Okay…” Ron panted. “Um…how ‘bout… _love_?” he asked, with a slight smile.

 

“No, that won’t do at all. It’s possible you’ll say that just because. So it has to be something you wouldn’t call out in the heat of passion, understand?” 

 

Ron nodded, and then seemed to think better of it so he quickly added, “Yes _Ma`am._ ” He thought for a moment longer. “How about… _chess_?” he asked, as looked up at Hermione and almost seemed afraid. 

 

“Very good. So if it begins to be too much, say the word _chess_ and I will stop.” Hermione stepped closer to him, and stroked a gloved hand along his back causing Ron to tremble. 

 

“That was a good word. I think you deserve a reward, Ronald. Would you like one?” she purred.

 

“Yes _Ma`am,_ ” Ron whispered in a voice filled with anticipation. Hermione squatted in front of him and captured his mouth in a burning kiss. She raked gloved fingers though his hair as her tongue delved deep in his mouth. Ron moaned from the depths of his chest as Hermione broke the kiss a moment later and stood in front of him. 

 

“Kiss me,” she commanded, and a confused Ron made to stand up, but Hermione arched over him and, WHACK! She slapped his bum again causing Ron to quickly bend back over and grip the barstool seeming to know that he had done something wrong.

 

“Not on my mouth.” Hermione instructed, and Ron seemed perplexed for a moment until he realized that he was level with the little patch of silk covering her heavenly center. She heard him whisper a soft “ _Oh_.” Before he reached forward and grabbed her hips. WHACK! Hermione throttled him again.

 

“FUCK!” Ron howled. WHACK!

 

“You will mind your language, Ronald, and you will _not_ touch me!” She could see that Ron had an ironclad grip on the barstool, and it was probably the only thing keeping him from strangling her. His face and his bum were a matching shade of crimson. Ron trembled severely as he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the front of her knickers. 

 

“Oh, you can do better than that, can’t you?” She heard him emit a low growl as he leaned forward again and pressed his hot mouth right on her center. She felt his tongue dart out and she knew this wasn’t the only reason her knickers were wet. Hermione arched forward and ran her hands down his back as he worked his hot mouth under her at an awkward angle. It felt so delicious that Hermione didn’t immediately realize that his hands were gripping her hips again, but the minute she did…WHACK! Ron yelped in pain.

 

Hermione stepped away from him quickly and walked around to his side. Ron was breathing hard, and had fixed her with a look that said he’d like nothing more than to grab her and fuck her into the floor. Hermione shivered, but _she_ was in charge and could not let Ron take control.

 

“You do not know how to follow directions, Ronald. You never could.”

 

“Rules were made to be broken,” he grumbled. The smirk was only on his face for a fraction of a second before…WHACK! WHACK!

 

“Did I say you could speak?” Hermione barked. “And who told you, you could let your cock drip!” She whacked him again as she stared at the copious amount of fluid leaking from his rock hard cock and tried her best to fight the urge to get on her knees before him. She did however, reach between his legs and run her gloved hand along his shaft. Ron moaned so loudly Hermione thought for sure that he came.  

 

“Get up!” She ordered, and Ron complied with haste. “Get on the bed!” He climbed on quickly and lay on his back. Hermione grabbed her wand and waived it casually. Ron’s arms and legs instantly spread to each corner of the bed, and were tied with a velvet rope. 

 

She bit back a laugh as she looked at his face. He looked as if he were about to pass out from the sheer joy of what was happening to him. Hermione climbed on the bed and stood between his legs. She looked at his trembling body, and was oddly proud that she could pull this kind of a reaction from a man. It was empowering. She tossed the riding crop to the side and dropped her wand beside Ron.

 

As, she slipped off her knickers, Ron let out a groan filled with so much longing that she thought he was going to weep. Still standing, Hermione walked up the bed and placed the tip of her spiked heel against his forehead. Ron looked up at her with an expression that held more questions than fear. 

 

“Do you trust me Ronald?”

 

“Yes,” he replied straight away. 

 

“I mean, really trust me?”

 

“Yes!” He repeated just as quickly.

 

“You’re lying!” Hermione shouted, but before Ron could refute her, she dropped to her knees so that now her hot center was mere inches away from his mouth. Ron seemed on the verge hyperventilating with the sheer desperation of wanting to get her in his mouth. 

 

“You don’t trust me, and you won’t even admit it!” When Ron opened his mouth to argue, Hermione tipped her hips forward, covering his lips with her wet folds. He whimpered as his tongue immediately went to work. Slumping forward to the headboard, Hermione let out a wail of pure ecstasy. 

 

Ron gripped the velvet ropes so tight that his muscles budged, and his veins stood out blue and purple against his pale skin. Hermione looked down into his piercing blue eyes and shuddered against the dark passion she saw in them. Suddenly, she screamed out, “ _I LOVE YOU!_ ” as she climaxed violently on his face. She had no idea she was that close to coming. 

 

Hermione slumped back, sitting on Ron’s chest. He was breathing extremely hard and she was slightly worried he was going to pass out. His eyes burned with intensity, so much so, that Hermione wondered if he was about to break free of his bindings. However, she wasn’t finished yet. He _was_ going to admit that he didn’t trust her if it was that last thing he did. Only then would they be able to move on and heal, it was only logical. 

 

Hermione wriggled her hips down his torso until his cock was lined up with her center. Ron bit his lip and tightened his grip on the ropes. They locked eyes for a sweet moment before Hermione sank slowly onto his throbbing cock. 

 

“Yes!” He expelled a large puff of air from his lungs. “That feels so good!” Ron moaned hungrily, breathing as if it were a struggle to capture any air in his lungs at all. Hermione rolled her hips skillfully and Ron began to match her rhythm. 

 

“Admit it Ron, you don’t trust me,” she panted.

 

“I trust you.” Ron licked his lips in a seductively playful way. Hermione quickly raised her hips, separating their bodies forcefully.  

 

“ _AAHHH_ FUCK!” Ron shouted, and she knew what she had just done had been a horrible mix of pleasure and pain for him, but she also knew she had to continue. Besides, looking down at his cock, he didn’t look as though he _wasn’t_ enjoying it. Hermione just wondered how far she could take it. 

 

“Don’t lie!” she yelled, and then practically impaled herself by plunging back onto his cock. Ron let out a sickly howl, and his breathing was getting louder and louder. He seemed to be emitting a moan with every breath. Hermione began to swirl her hips creating a wicked smacking sound from the abundance of juices flowing between the two of them. Ron’s eyes rolled back in his head and veins began to pop out in his neck. She knew he was close to climaxing.

 

“Tell me you don’t trust me!” 

 

“I trust you!” he whimpered loudly. Hermione wrenched their bodies apart once again. This time Ron thrashed so wildly that he nearly tossed Hermione off the bed. 

 

“FUCK! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!” he growled viciously, and she knew the only thing keeping him from squeezing the life out of her was the tight ropes around his wrist. Provoking Ron’s temper was like jabbing a cranky bear with a stick, but this was the only way to get the truth out of him. Hermione sank back so that just the head of his cock was inside her. Ron’s chest was rising and falling so rapidly that it was almost making her motion sick. 

 

“You will admit the truth Ronald! You will admit that you do not trust me!” she shouted. 

 

“BLOODY HELL!” he roared. His entire body was beet red, and it was as if he was clenching every muscle in his body, which was shaking violently now. “I SAID I TRUST YOU!” 

 

Hermione knew that teasing him like this was becoming painful for him. She just hoped he would admit it soon for she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to keep him like this and keep her sanity. It hurt her to see him in pain, but she was determined as she sank a little lower on his cock. 

 

“You are lying! I know it because I haven’t so much as _seen_ your journal! You won’t even have it out around me, that’s how much you _don’t_ trust me!” She ended in a whisper, as her eyes misted over with tears. 

 

“MOTHER FU— _CHESS_!” Ron shouted viciously. “Take these bloody ropes off of me now!” His voice came out in an angry bark, and it scared Hermione so completely, she had her wand in her hand before she was even conscious of reaching for it. 

 

The instant Ron was free of the bindings he had a vice-like grip on Hermione’s shoulders, and had reversed their positions. His entire body seemed to be on fire, and he was quivering from head to toe as he pressed her into the bed. It was his eyes, however, that nearly stopped her heart. The pure intensity of his glare had her fearing for her life. His face was twisted in a terrible expression and his eyes were welling up with tears. 

 “I TRUST YOU!” he growled, loudly. “You want to know why you haven’t seen me with that bloody journal?” He gnashed out through gritted teeth, and his trembling increased dreadfully as if it was taking every ounce of energy he possessed just to speak. “You haven’t seen me with it because I haven’t needed it! I don’t need it because I have you! I HAVE YOU!” He shook her slightly as if to drive home his point.  

A tear fell from his eye and landed on Hermione’s cheek. Before she could fully absorb what he had just said, Ron pitched forward and drove himself deep inside her. Hermione let out an anguished moan, but instantly wrapped her leather clad legs around his waist and they began to desperately grind against each other. 

 

They were so close a wisp of air would have had an impossible time passing between them and yet it still didn’t seem close enough. Ron had snaked his arms around her. One arm cradling her shoulders and the other around her waist and he was holding her as if his very life depended on it. Hermione had one of her arms hooked around his neck and the other gripped his back like a mighty talon. Their foreheads were pressed together and their eyes were locked on each other. It was an odd position indeed, but she needed to hold onto him, and apparently he needed the same. 

 

Ron’s thrusts were so shallow that it was as if he wasn’t even pulling out at all. The sheer friction between them caused their skin to sizzle, and it took mere minutes before they were screaming out their climax with Hermione’s clenching muscles forcefully milking Ron of his very life force. 

 

They lay for the longest time still wrapped around each other, Ron’s head buried in Hermione’s neck, neither seemed to want to let go of the other. She heard Ron sniff, and then felt the wetness on her shoulder. He was crying and she knew that’s why he didn’t want to let go just yet. It made her cry as well. 

 

“I love you,” she rasped, her voice had slightly failed her. Ron tightened his grip and groaned. She hadn’t expected him to be able to speak just yet. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, this time her voice was a touch above a whisper. She felt Ron shake his head against her shoulder, and let out a soft sob with another sniff. 

 

After long moments, Ron rolled off of her and rested on his side pulling her to him. They faced each other and Hermione was touched beyond words that he would let her see him like this. The only other time she had seen him cry was at Dumbledore’s funeral, and even then, it was not like this. His entire face was wet and red, but his eyes shone bright and they anchored her to him. 

 

“I trust you, Hermione,” his voice came out in a raspy quiver. Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to be able to speak again without bawling all over him. Ron cleared his throat, preparing to speak once more. 

 

“I’ll make you a deal…” he said with a sniff. “Whenever I feel like I need to write in the journal about you, how ‘bout I just talk to you instead? So you never have to wonder.” Hermione _did_ burst into tears then. Ron pulled her to him and wrapped her tight in his arms. 

 

“I take it you agree with that idea?” He chuckled softly as Hermione nodded against his chest. Ron pulled the blanket around their rapidly cooling bodies. 

 

I’ll…I’ll do the same.” Hermione hiccupped. “I’ll talk to you wh-when I want to know som-something and not do horrible things like read your journal, all right?” Ron nodded, but then gently lifted her chin until their eyes were locked.

 

“You have to forgive yourself, love. I’ve forgiven you. You made a mistake and as perfect as I think you are, you’re only human, all right.” Hermione nodded, with a loud and rather undignified sniff. 

 

“Love you,” he murmured and kissed her forehead, all she could muster was yet another nod. They were quite for a long while, with Ron caressing her lovingly. 

 

“Ron?” Hermione whispered.

 

“Yeah, love?” He murmured, snuggling his face into her neck.

 

“Do me a favor?”

 

“Anything,”

 

“Help me get out of this corset.”

 

 

 *****

_Six months later…_     

 

Ron carried his wife of eight hours over the threshold of their lovely, romantic honeymoon suite. Hermione yelped has he nearly knocked her head against the door frame. 

 

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly.

 

“Honestly Ron, I’m going to be no good to you if I’m unconscious.” Hermione laughed as he plopped her down on the large four-poster. He took his place at the foot of the bed, and set to taking off her shoes. As he kissed her feet, Hermione reclined with a smile. 

 

Before she could really indulge in the loveliness of the suite, she felt Ron lay something on her stomach. Hermione looked down and saw a small red leather journal. Her first instinct was to panic.

 

Although Ron had kept to his promise and talked to her whenever he felt the need to write in his journal, the sight of it still made her pulse increase. For her part, Hermione asked him questions when she felt the need to know his feelings. Not to mention, she had allowed her assistant to do what he was hired for, and thus she was able to be home at a normal time almost every night. 

 

So she realized that whatever reason Ron was presenting her with his journal probably had nothing to do with anything bad. Besides, the look on his face confirmed this as he wore a mischievous grin.

 

“What is this?” Hermione questioned.

 

“Open it and see.” Ron smiled wider. Hermione complied and read the inside cover aloud.

 

“ _Ron’s Book of Fantasies._ ” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, this is mighty enterprising of you.”

 

“Well, you know…always trying to better myself.” He cheesed wide, and brushed off his collar in a very aristocratic sort of way. Hermione snorted.

 

“Flip to page five,” Ron instructed. She did, and read the few sentences quickly with an amused smirk on her face. Then she turned the journal around to face him.

 

“What’s this here?” She indicated a specific word. Ron looked at the page and his ears colored slightly. She loved that he still got embarrassed after all that they had done together, and she secretly hoped he would always be that way.

 

“French maid,” he mumbled. Hermione turned the book back around.

 

“French maid?” She clucked her tongue. “Stay out of my Muggle magazines, would you,” she said teasingly, as she remembered a very vivid picture of a woman wearing a French maid uniform in an advertisement for vacuum cleaners. This caused the red on Ron’s ears to creep to his cheeks. 

 

“ _You_ left it open on that page, I assumed you were trying to…to give me a hint!”

 

“I did no such thing, if it was open on that page, it was purely by accident. Besides, you’ve spelled _French_ wrong,” she snorted again.

 

“Did not!” 

 

“There is no _‘I_ ’ in that word, Ronald.” Ron snatched the book from her, and gave it a look. 

 

“Sometimes my ‘ _E’s_ ’ look like ‘ _I_ ’s’.” 

 

“Your handwriting is appalling.” Hermione laughed, causing Ron to toss the journal aside and crawl up her body. 

 

“So are you going to wear it or not?” Ron asked anxiously, mere inches from her face.

 

“Perhaps…if you’re a good boy, Mr. Weasley.” She threaded her fingers through his hair.

 

“Well, I won’t make that promise, because you like it when I’m a bad boy…Mrs. Weasley _._ ” They paused for a moment and let that sink in. She was now _Hermione Weasley_. Ron leaned down and kissed her soundly, and after a few mind-blowing minutes, they pulled away tenderly. Hermione looked him in his eyes and sighed…Merlin, she loved this man.

 

“I’ll do your fantasy, but first I have one of my own,” she said, and Ron raised a curious eyebrow.

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione reached into the garter on her thigh and pulled out her wand. Ignoring the comment Ron made about how bloody sexy that was, she flicked it once at the wardrobe in the corner. The doors swung open and Ron peered over his shoulder into the dark cabinet. 

 

“Is that my…my Quidditch uniform…and my _broom_? Ron goggled at her for a moment. “You are a naughty, naughty witch.”

 

“No reason Harry and Ginny should have all the fun.”

   **~ The end ~**     

**AN:** Well that is it! I must say that this was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. I never thought I could be creative enough to write for fandom. When I first started reading fan fiction, I thought it should be easy to write, after all, the characters are already developed, the world had been created and all you have to do it pick up at a certain point and take it from there…how wrong was I? LOL. 

 

I see now that it is much more difficult for all the reasons I listed above. So I am pleased that I actually found a plot to build a short story around. So much so that I intend to write another story based in this universe called _Bonded_ (at least that’s what its title is for now). It will have mystery, romance, drama, action and of course there will be smut and it will ship Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione equally. I currently have almost 2 chapters done but I want to have 3 complete before I submit the first. So look out for it.

 

Also, the line in this story about Ginny and Harry shagging on a broom, I have to give credit to a wonderful writer by the name of Bluemidget and her brilliant story, Pany’s Volcano. It ships Draco and Hermione and can be found on adultfanfiction.net or contraveritas.com

 

Last but certainly not least, a big thank you to my wonderful Beta…Naiad! Loved all of your input and your brit-picking! LOL. Thank you Christine! I hope we will work together again. 

 

Another heart felt thank you to Jenny/Accioweasley, wish we could have finish this story together, and I wish I had the chance to know you better. May you rest in peace.

  Karen

 


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